


Snow

by delphia2000



Series: The Snow Series [1]
Category: Kung Fu The Legend Continues
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-19
Updated: 2010-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 42,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delphia2000/pseuds/delphia2000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kermit goes out of town to pick up a perp and comes back with a wife instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Kermit was cold. Colder than he'd ever been in his life. It was bone-chilling cold; a killing cold. He cursed his own stupidity for the millionth time and staggered onward through a fluffy blanket of snow on the trail, toward what he hoped would be salvation. The quiet flakes continued to pelt downward, swirling in odd little patterns around him now and then as if suddenly inspired by silent music to gracefully dance a ballet. He stumbled and went to his knees again, unable to catch his proper balance with his hands cuffed behind him. His own handcuffs. It was humiliating. With some luck, they'd never find his body and no one would ever know. Never a damned, hungry wolf around when you needed one, he thought as he listened to the silence of the wilderness around his own frosted, panting breaths.

He deeply inhaled the clean, crackling cold air and then coughed as the chill penetrated his lungs. A cough that rocketed an agonizing pain through his shoulder, worse than pain the jarring fall to his knees had caused. It didn't feel like it was bleeding anymore. Probably frozen by now, he thought. He hadn't the flexibility to examine the wound but he could tell from past experience that the collarbone was broken. Every move, every breath had caused excruciating pain for the past hour or so since he'd been shot. Shot and brought out here to the middle of nowhere in the frozen Alaskan wilderness and dumped in the middle of a snowstorm. It could be worse. The shot could have killed him. Although chances were, if he'd have died, he'd at least have ended up some nice, toasty warm place. Then again, with his recent streak of luck, hell would be frozen over today.

One snowmobiler in the group had taken pity as the others roared off into the storm. He'd fastened Kermit's jacket back up and put up his hood, taking time to not-very-gently shove a pair of mittens onto the detective's cuffed hands. "I can't help you much more than this. They'd off me too if I did, but I didn't sign on to be part of any cop killing. Be smart and don't try to walk back the way we came. It's at least 20 miles and the sun is going down. You'll never make it back to the highway. But if you keep on after us, there are homesteads and lodges up this way."

Kermit wasn't in any mood or condition to thank him then, but now he was more than grateful with the wind blowing harder; stinging snow burning his unprotected eyes. Damn, he missed his glasses. But it was a good thing he'd thought enough to drag out an old army issue Arctic parka from the back of his closet when he'd started this venture. Ice was caking up in his beard and his nose itched abominably. He sat back on his heels, trying to shift position enough to make breathing easier but only succeeded in achieving a new level of pain and discomfort.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn't eaten in a while and he thought back to the meal he'd shared just a little over a day ago with Peter Caine. He'd gone to lunch with Peter to glean information about the man who he'd be taking into custody from the Alaska State Troopers in Fairbanks. Frank Garrison had been Peter's bust last year but had escaped from prison while awaiting trial. It had been only a few months since Peter left the force to follow a new path, but Kermit was still in close contact with his friend. So it wasn't odd that he would call the priest when he got the assignment to go and pick up Garrison. It was best to be prepared with all the data he could scratch up. At least that's what he'd told himself. It had nothing to do with wanting to talk about anything personal. Not at all. He could almost taste the half sandwich he'd left on his plate yesterday, wishing he had it now. The food had been good, the service excellent and the restaurant, blessedly warm.

~~~***~~~

"The man's a charmer," Peter said, picking at his French fries. "He'll have made friends by now; friends who he'll con into helping him. And he'll double-cross them in a minute if it suits his needs. Don't trust him an inch even if he's drugged, unconscious and chained down."

Kermit almost laughed at that. "Like I'm going to trust scum like Garrison."

"Trust has always been an issue with you, my friend," Peter commented, "An issue that could almost interfere with a personal life."

"I trust you well enough, Peter. And I trust you know how dangerous it is to interfere with my personal life."

Peter just smiled at him and he knew the Shaolin senses were seeing right through his protective green glasses. "That's something you know I'd never do," his friend assured him, "not that I'm not convinced I couldn't kick your butt in a Shaolin second if I really wanted to."

Peter was trying to make him laugh; to get him to relax. It was working.

"You know, I was talking with Mary Margaret the other day," Peter continued bravely as he sipped the last of his tea, "and she mentioned something about things being a little tense at the precinct lately. Said you were getting up on the grouchy side of the bed most days."

"Mary Margaret has a big mouth."

"Yes, well, she's got a big heart to go with it. I think she's a little worried about you, Kermit. I'm sure your version is a lot more accurate than hers," he prompted.

Kermit pushed his half eaten lunch away and stirred a bit more cream into his coffee before he began. "I finally got around to asking Karen for that interrupted date and took her out to a nice, quite French place I know. Apparently, Commissioner Kincaid knows about it, too. He was there and, after watching us for a bit, had some private words with Simms which caused her to make a flimsy excuse about a headache and she left rather abruptly in a cab.

"Kincaid has had it in for me ever since my last unexpected absence when he tried to put me on suspension and the State Department had a chat with him about it. I figured I'd let Karen stew about whatever he'd said overnight and then talk to her in the morning. When I got into work, Kincaid was in her office and after he left, she called me in to tell me we wouldn't be seeing each other on a personal basis in the future. Gave me some crap about 'needing to concentrate on her career'.

"We both knew it was crap but she wouldn't say anything more. So I let it go and collared TJ instead. Called in a favor. He found out his old man was quoting her chapter and verse of the Sexual Harassment laws. How it was against policy for a Captain to fraternize too closely with members of her team--a person she'd potentially have to order into lethal gunfire. He gave her the option of taking another precinct or sending me to another if she had wanted to continue the relationship. But she didn't. And she didn't even consider asking me what I'd want. She'd just made the decision for both of us."

"Well, she's never been one to shrink from making a tough decision," Peter commented quietly. "It probably got her where she is today. But it wasn't very fair to you."

"Life ain't fair, kid," Kermit contended, "but I thought she respected me enough to at least ask my opinion. I tried to call her on it. Factored in the probability that she didn't want me stuck with a captain who wouldn't understand abrupt, unexplained absences. I thought maybe she was protecting me using the excuse that she was protecting her career, not that I liked that idea any better. But she dismissed it as an ego problem that I'd better get over fast."

"Ouch. That was pretty cold. Sounds like there isn't much you can do," Peter said. "Or is there something you might want to try? Maybe let me talk to her; ask her to discuss it with you further?"  
Kermit shook his head no. "I thought about it but, I realized that she's not ready to turn over any responsibilities or make compromises; not after what she went through in that marriage. And even though she's my boss and she's got the right to tell me what case to take at work, I'm not ready for a woman to try to run my personal life. What happens if she tries to stop me from taking care of old business? I think we're both too darn stubborn and I think we both know it just won't work for us. Probably better to let it go."

"And you're comfortable with that? No leftover feelings that might crop up?" Peter asked.   
"No, not now that I've had a chance to piss and moan about it," he answered with a wry grin. "And I still respect her as a good cop. But I'm glad to get away from the office a while even if it is to go North. I hate the cold. I don't even like shopping in the frozen food section at the grocery store."   
Peter just smiled and advised him, "Wear a warm coat and watch your back with Garrison."

~~~***~~~

Now here he was, stuck in the middle of nowhere because he hadn't watched his back. He'd been stupid and was paying for it in spades. Garrison wasn't waiting in Fairbanks like he was supposed to be. Between weather conditions and equipment failures, the Troopers hadn't been able to bring him in from a remote location. Instead of waiting a day or two, Kermit had impatiently rented an SUV and headed out for a little town called Nenana. After all, there was only one road there--how difficult could this be?

The storm had started blowing harder when he finally arrived and presented the papers for Garrison's extradition. The man was put in chains in the farthest back seat, belted in and nowhere near a door. It seemed safe enough when he turned back to Fairbanks. But then six snowmobiles had roared out of nowhere and when they shot the tires out, the SUV had spun like a top on the icy road. He didn't think half a dozen backwoods yahoos and one rifle were any real threat. He'd faced worse odds before so he'd gotten out of the truck to return fire but it turned out there was a second rifle. A lucky shot had brought him down, knocking away his beloved shades and even his gun to be lost in the high banks of snow at the sides of the road. They'd freed Garrison and then Garrison had secured him over the tank of a snowmobile, cuffed and in dizzying pain. After a bone jarring, wind-whipping race through the wilderness, they'd dumped him on the trail and roared off into the shadowed woods.

And it was colder than any hell he'd ever imagined. He'd heard about nightmare things like frostbite and hypothermia but he wasn't sure he'd have to even worry about those because he knew he'd lost a lot of blood and he was tired and hungry and dizzy and it was getting hard to think straight. Grimacing from the pain, he surged to his feet again. He knew if he stopped now, he'd never get up again. Determinedly, he staggered forward again, looking for a light signaling a homestead somewhere ahead in the gray and purple colored shadows of the winter sunset.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Night had fallen and the musher had to light both her headlamp and a lantern on the sled to keep sight of the trail through the storm. Not that she really needed to. Her lead dog, Radar, knew the way home better than she, even though the trail was as familiar to her as any city street would be to an urban dweller. It was more a precaution in case another team was on the trail going in the opposite direction, but that was not likely in this storm. She whistled encouragement to the team. It was close to home and they were all tired, cold and ready for dinner and a warm bed. And the storm was getting worse.

Radar suddenly slowed and she cursed silently hoping it wasn't an angry moose on the trail. That could be disaster. The dogs stopped and she pulled the rifle from its holster before tossing out the ice anchor. Her team never took off on their own, but there was always a first time for everything and she wasn't in the mood for a long cold walk home right now. Wading through the thick snow at the side of the trail, she ran up to where Radar stood, tongue hanging out, panting and drooling as the animal nosed the lump at her feet.

The musher twisted her headlamp to focus in on the object and realized it was a person. Curled up in almost fetal position, and covered with a light blanket of snow, it was certainly human and quite possibly dead from exposure. She reached shakily to touch the body, looking for a pulse and found, although cold, the person was certainly still alive. For the moment anyway.

She tugged at him, for she realized it was a man, and tried to rouse him but got no response. His hands were tucked oddly behind him and she pulled at one sleeve, trying to free the arm. The head lamp caught a glimmer of metal and she realized he was handcuffed. Fear gripped her. Probably some escaped criminal. Now what? Well, she certainly couldn't just leave him here no matter how tempting that idea was. If he was dangerous, she could leave the cuffs on him until one of the Troopers could come out and pick him up. But for now, she had to figure out how to get him into the sled and back to her lodge.

It took some persuasion to get Radar to move up and away from her prize but after pulling in the anchor, she finally got the dogs to move the sled closer to the man and with effort, managed to drag and shove him onto the sled. Then yelling 'Hike' to her team, they sped off silently into the frozen night.

Tanana View Lodge was big, plush and the pride of her life as well as her livelihood. All summer long it was booked solid with vacationers seeking the quiet of the north lands. In winter, she had it mostly to herself with the occasional visit from a neighbor or two or, rarely, the controlled chaos of a dog sled race passing through.

She stopped the team right at the front instead of going to the back where the dog yard was. The dogs settled down patiently in the snow to wait as she dragged the man off the sled and up to the stairs. Damn. This wasn't going to be easy, she thought, panting from exertion as she looked up the flight of stairs to the front deck. Radar's whining gave her an idea and she unhooked the leader from the line. She brought the dog to the man who lay in the snow, drifting deeper into deadly hypothermia every minute. Taking the ends of the blanket she'd wrapped around him, she tied them to the harness the dog wore, and then ran up the steps.

Like most homes in the area, she had an Arctic entryway built onto the front of her cabin. An enclosed porch, it had pegs for multiple coats and storage for boots, gloves and other foul-weather gear. The actual door into the main part of the house was set at the other end, away from the drafts of the outdoor entry. Built-in benches lined the outer wall where guests could sit to change into the slippers she kept for convenience.

Using the headlamp in the darkness, she went in to open the front door to her home. She paused briefly and considered. There was no time to waste, so she did something she rarely ever did. Concentrating, she reached out a hand into the darkness and light flared in the fireplace across the room. The fire caught swiftly on the already-laid kindling. Then she ran back down the steps to take the man's head to keep it from slamming into the steps as she encouraged the powerful sled dog to pull hard. Together they dragged him up the steps and into the house.

Her home was not the usual wilderness cabin. No, Tanana View was downright luxurious compared to most of the neighborhood. She had hot and cold running water and even electricity available from her farm of wind generators up the hill behind the lodge, so she didn't have to depend solely on wood stoves and fireplaces for heat. The septic system was experimental but successful, even with full occupancy during the busy summers.

Radar's tugging helped her get the man onto the low futon-type couch in front of the fireplace. She ran to put towels in the electric dryer to heat them, knowing that they'd hold the heat and warm him faster than the blanket she'd tossed over him. Dumping her heavy parka on the floor, she turned on some electric lights too, splurging with the power of the storm driving the generators. He was still quiet when she decided to look for identification and perhaps a key to those cuffs if she thought it would be safe to remove them. She tried a couple pockets and stretched to reach the far one when she realized her hand felt sticky. She pulled it out, covered with blood.

Oh no, she thought as she pulled the coat back. There was blood all over his chest. He was hurt somehow. She ran to wash the blood off her hand and went to a storage cabinet down the hallway to where she kept a locker of medical supplies for some of the races that went by the lodge. One never knew what kind of help would be needed, so she'd offered the lodge as a check point where the medical teams could be stationed. She had some EMT training herself and, although she had spent more time doctoring dogs lately, she knew enough to be of help.

She dragged a tub full of supplies back to the front room and pulled out a pair of latex gloves from the box to wear as she gingerly pulled back the man's coat to examine him better. She wasn't sure but it looked like a gunshot wound to her. She patted him down to find a wallet and pulled it out. There was an ID card and a badge. He was a cop. A detective from out of state. She took a guess and fished behind the badge. She'd known a few cops in her time and, sure enough, found a hidden cuff key tucked securely behind the badge. She went to get one of the hot towels to lay on the couch under him before she removed the cuffs and got him out of his coat.

It was no easy chore but as she stripped his damp clothes from him, she wrapped him in the hot towels and then put a heating pack in the microwave to warm and lay at his feet. He was shaking involuntarily now and then from the hypothermia; his body attempting to warm itself and he'd made a few sounds that actually sounded like words, but nothing she could understand. He was still far from consciousness. Checking carefully, she looked for signs of frostbite, but found none she could identify. His beard and longish hair had probably protected him even though some flesh had been exposed to the damaging cold. She padded the wounded shoulder a little, but it was only slowly oozing, most of the bleeding having stopped. It was all she could do for the moment. She stopped to consider.

Her team was still outside, with full night coming on and the temperature dropping. They needed care too. She was torn. Human life took precedence over animals but these were her partners. They depended on her to take care of them and in return, did what even snowmobiles couldn't do as well. Could a machine have helped her drag this body up her steps? Not likely. Heck, had she been on one of her snowmobiles, she'd have run right over him and never even known he was there. He had to warm up before she could do anything more anyway, she decided.

Throwing more fuel on the fire, she left Radar to guard while she ran to do what she quickly could for her team. She got them to the dog yard and into their houses with fresh water but decided they would have to wait for food. Then, dragging in the supplies from the sled so they wouldn't freeze, she went back inside to call the Troopers.

She checked on the man's shoulder first, to be better able to report his condition and found the bullet still in the wound, lying up against the bone. Probably broke his collarbone, she thought. Geeze, he must have been crazy with the pain with his hands cuffed behind him that way. Who ever had done that to him was a real sicko. It was frightening to think that person was possibly still out there in her neighborhood.

She went to warm up the radio that took up most of a corner in the front room not far from the fireplace. The set was a little on the antique side but it worked well and she never had seen reason to replace it. She usually called in up to four times a day with a weather report for the National Weather Bureau stationed at the Troopers HQ in Nenana. But she'd been by there today on her way to the store for supplies so they weren't expecting her to call. Officer Tom Thompson sounded a little surprised but pleased to hear her. They had gone out together a few times but only he regarded it as dating. "Hey, are you missing a cop from Outside?" she asked.

"Well, as a matter of fact, we are. Someone spotted his rental out on the highway in a snow bank. Car we sent out said it looked like the tires got shot out. They got a team out on snowmobiles looking but they're turning back from the storm."   
The voice crackled a little from the effects of the storm but she could hear him well enough. "I found him. Or rather, Radar did. He was up the trail from the lodge about 5 miles or so, handcuffed and lying in the snow. He's been shot looks like and probably has hypothermia too. Maybe I should talk with Doc if he's there?"

"Yeah, he's here. I'll get him. Hey, are you sure it's the cop? If he's cuffed, it could be Garrison, his prisoner."

She picked up the ID card in front of her on the desk and answered, "No, it's him. Face matches although he's got sunglasses on and no beard in this picture."

"Yeah, that's the guy. I remember those sunglasses. Here's Doc."

Officer Jim Wells was just a former EMT who had studied to be a Physician's Assistant, but everyone called him Doc anyway since he was the closest thing to a real doctor in these parts. After listening to her description of the man's condition, he had her take a blood pressure reading and take his temperature.

The numbers were not good. "I hate to ask you this, babe, but you have some IV stuff there don't you? And maybe some antibiotics?"

She knew what was coming. "Yes, everything we'd need to put in an IV, but do we really need to? You know I almost flunked that class."

"Sorry, but his BP is too low. Actually he'd probably do better with some whole blood but we need to do something to get him stable before we can move him. If we can move him. How's that storm out there?"

She sighed. "Bad. You'll never get a plane in here tonight."

"Then put an IV in and call me back in 15 minutes with new numbers, okay?"

He gave her the proper dosage of antibiotics and she wrote it down to make sure she would get it right. "Plan on hearing from me in 20. It's going to take me at least five minutes to get that needle in place."

She left the radio on standby and went back to the medical locker for more supplies. Then she braced herself for the job she knew she had to do.

It took her more than the planned five minutes but she finally got the IV taped in place. The poor guy's arm looked like a pincushion. Good thing he was still unconscious, she thought. His color was improving from the heated towels and his heartbeat was strong and steady. She decided to put the kettle on in case he woke up enough to take some tea and besides, she could use a cup herself. While it heated, she picked up discarded clothing and jackets, organized the medical supplies and set the room to rights as best she could.

Doc was pleased with the numbers she called in. "That's an improvement. You're going to have to watch him tonight. We definitely won't be able to pick him up until this storm calms down. So how many times did you have to stick him to get that needle set?"

"Ah, I think it was only eight or maybe......wait a minute. Why? Do you guys have a pool going?"

"Of course. You know Masterson. He'll bet on how far spilled milk would drip. So eight, you say? Shoot."

"Oh, for pity's sake, Doc! You guys are beyond sick and have way too much time on your hands. And I should probably be offended. So who won?"

"Thompson. He says he's cutting you in for half. I'm sensing some collusion here."

"Tell him he can just offer to let me practice on him next time he's out this way. I'll call back in another 15 with new numbers. Tanana View out."

It was sometime later, after the second IV bag when the man woke up. Radar sat up suddenly, waking her from the nap she was taking in the chair next to the fireplace. She had fed both herself and her team after she had cared for her patient. He mumbled something as his eyelids fluttered and she moved to put a hand on his chest to keep him from jerking either the wounded shoulder or the IV she'd worked so hard to place. "Hold on now, mister. Lay still," she ordered, "You're safe now."

He opened his eyes fully, focusing on first her and then Radar who laid her nose on his lightly on his chest and then back at her. "Where am I and who the hell are you?"

"You're at Tanana View Lodge and it ain't the ends of the earth, but you can see it from here. This is my leader, Radar who found you. My name is Snow. Snow Murdoch."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three  
"What the hell kind of a name is Snow?"

"Oh, two full sentences. You must be feeling better."

She sat down on the edge of the futon and continued, "It's the same kind of name as 'Kermit.' Should I ask how Miss Piggy is?"

"Okay, that was fair. How'd I get here?" he asked as he moved a little, swiveling his head to look at his surroundings.   
He was in a log cabin of sorts; a really nice log cabin. There was a delightfully warm fire crackling in a natural stone hearth not too far away, smelling of piney wood smoke. He was laying on some kind of low couch and his shoulder was bandaged, with his right arm tied in place across his chest. He looked back at his rescuers. The dog looked white at first glance, but on closer examination, was marked with soft tan and cream areas. No doubt a husky of some kind, given the location, he considered, but very large and broad-chested. Quite a beautiful animal.

The woman was far less remarkable, a study in average, although her green eyes were bright, warm and filled with compassion. Her hair was medium brown, worn in a long braid that fell over her shoulder and he wasn't certain but it looked like some gray was woven in here and then. She was probably close to his age, but it was hard to tell since her skin was fair, smooth and unlined. She was wearing what he had come to recognize as the standard Alaskan uniform--a plaid flannel shirt and jeans.

"We found you out on the trail. When I saw the cuffs, I almost left you. She gestured to the handcuffs sitting on the coffee table along with his badge. "Figured you for a criminal. But even criminals don't deserve to freeze to death."

"I've known a few who would," he interrupted.

"I can't agree, but then I haven't lived in the city for a long time, so I guess I'm no judge. Anyway, we brought you here and Radar helped me drag you up the stairway. Sorry if there are any additional bruises."

His eyebrows rose briefly. She was very short, probably not over 5 foot tall and while not delicate, certainly not a draft horse. "You were able to lift me? You must be stronger than you look."

She smiled. "Chopping wood builds up the biceps. Besides, Radar did most of the real work. I just kinda shoved and pushed. Are you hungry? And warm enough?"

His shoulder hurt like hell and he was sore all over but he'd felt worse. The heat from the sputtering fire felt wonderful. "I could use something to drink."

He twisted slightly to try to put his hand under himself to lever himself up, but hissed in pain from the movement. Then he noticed the IV.

Snow pushed him gently back, "I said hold still. Your collarbone is probably broken and the bullet is still in there. And I'd rather you didn't move around and pull out that IV--took me eight tries to get it set and it won't be fun for either of us if I have to put it back. Lay still and I'll get you some warm broth."

He felt tired and dizzy and not inclined to argue.

As she got up and went to the kitchen area, he asked about the medical gear and she explained about her unfinished training and the race that was due to go by in a few weeks. "I've got several hundred pounds of dog food stashed under the lodge too. Races are pretty well planned in advance. I'll have to account to Fairbanks Memorial for the supplies I've used on you, but it's for emergencies. That's probably where you'll end up anyway when this storm breaks. Hopefully tomorrow."

She brought him a steaming mug of broth with a bent straw in it to help him drink it and set it on the coffee table. The big white dog shoved forward towards the mug, but she intercepted it, pushing it's muzzle back. "Knock that off Radar. You had your dinner."

The dog gave her a disgusted look and then went back to lay her head on Kermit's lap again. "She thinks she owns you. Finder's keepers," Snow explained. "If she's bothering you, I can put her out with the rest of the team. I'm just used to having her in the house."

"She's okay. I like dogs," he said gently as he carefully stroked the animal's head, making sure not to tug the IV in his arm.

"Well, technically, she's a wolf," Snow pointed out, "at least mostly anyway."

And he realized she was right as he looked into the animal's golden eyes and noticed the thin muzzle and long legs. Not at all dog-like. He remembered vaguely he'd wanted a wolf for some reason. Oh, yeah; to put him out of his misery. Apparently, he'd gotten a wolf when he needed one after all. Radar gave him a little doggie slurp on his wrist, sniffing at the IV. He smiled, wondering if she was telling him she liked him, giving him sympathy or was just taking a little taste.

Snow had moved behind him to the head of the couch and gently placed pillows beneath his back to raise his upper body slightly. "There," she said as she tucked the covers back around him and handed him the mug, "That should be enough to keep you from choking on this. Drink up and then I've got some bonzer stuff for pain that will help you sleep."

He was just able to hold the mug although somewhat shakily, and he could tell she was watching him to make sure he didn't drop it. It might have been annoying if she hadn't been so subtle about it. As much as he hated soup, the broth tasted damned good. Next she brought a bag of something warm and tucked it under his feet.

"It's filled with a special kind of corn," she explained. "You microwave it and it holds the heat in. I use them for bed warmers for my guests when it's cold."

"Nice. Microwave, eh? I don't suppose you have anything like a telephone around here?" he asked.

She pointed to the large radio set. "No phone, but I radioed the Troopers in Nenana when we found you. Their EMT has been giving me directions and I'm sure they've contacted your office by now. Now drink your dinner and don't waste any energy on worry."

She reached for a small bottle and a syringe lying next to it on the coffee table. "You're going to like this stuff and I don't have to find a vein to put it in."

~~~~~~~~~~

Captain Karen Simms was just getting ready to leave for the day when the Alaska State Troopers called from Fairbanks to let her know that her detective and his prisoner were overdue. He'd gone to some small town to pick the prisoner up and never made it back. They found his abandoned rental by the side of the highway.

She could have gone home to wait to hear more, but she lingered, finding work to do in her office while she alternately hoped, prayed and cursed a little, shuffling papers, pretending to herself she was actually doing something constructive.   
Detective Powell was on late shift and, unasked, brought her some coffee. It was touching in its silent message of concern. Jody hesitated by the door. "It's only late afternoon up there. There's a four hour time difference. I checked. It's probably still light enough for them to find him," she offered hopefully.

"It's also 40 below where he is," Simms commented without looking up from her papers. "I checked too. And the sun went down an hour ago."

"Maybe he got a lift from someone."

Simms just grunted non-committedly and Jody left. It was an hour later when the call came through that he'd been found and was alive but without his prisoner. They also mentioned he was injured, but had no details. With no one to see, Jody dared to reach out in the empty bullpen to squeeze her Captain's shoulder carefully as Simms put the telephone down.

"He's alive and okay. Maybe you can get some sleep now. They should have some real news by morning."

Karen rubbed her tired eyes and sighed, "I should have known he'd be okay. He's too damned stubborn to die. Stubborn, clear through to the bone."

"Well, it is one of his finer qualities."

Simms just smiled in answer and, leaving instructions to be called at home if needed, she left for the night. Sleep was probably out of the question, but she could rest a little and try to figure out a way to tell him how regretful she was. And maybe think of a way to make this whole ugly mess up to him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four  
Morning brought no relief from the raging blizzard. The snow was drifting up to the third step and she had to use a rope guide to make it even as far as the dog yard to feed her huskies. It was called a white-out and was the most deadly of conditions in the far north, with visibility almost zero and no sign of a lull.

Snow tried to be quiet as she shook out her outer gear and slid out of her boots, back into the moccasins she wore inside her home. The detective was still sleeping, under the influence of the strong drugs she'd been instructed to administer. His vital signs were still good for the moment but who knew how long that would last.

She went to the radio, which had been on stand-by all night, and called in to Trooper HQ again. The weather was no better at their end of the wilderness trail. "How close is that bullet to the surface?" asked Doc.

She hesitated. If it were one of her dogs, she'd have no problem with taking the bullet out. But this was a human life that would be in her hands. "Right there, almost protruding from the wound," she admitted, "I can take it out if I have too, I guess. But I'm worried about blood loss. What if it's hit a major artery?'

"If it's where you described it, it hasn't. But we're working on a way to get you a couple units of blood just in case anyway. We're expecting a hole in the weather, a small hole with just enough time to do an air drop to you. Couple of those Med-Evac boys from Ft. Wainwright think they can pull it off safely. They can put a flare and a GPS on the drop so you can find it."

"This is such a bad idea, Doc. I hate this. Any chance that hole in the weather will be big enough to get a ski plane in on my runway? Wind is keeping the snowfall down out there. And I can plow it pretty fast with the ATV."

Begging wasn't pretty but she'd do anything to avoid this.

"Not a chance, lady. Looks to be one of those three day blows. You're his best prospect."

She sighed, knowing he spoke the truth. She'd cleaned the wound as best she could, but she knew that even with the antibiotics she'd given him, a dirty bullet could wreak havoc with his system. It needed to come out and since it was so accessible, there was no good excuse other than her fears.

She toggled the mike switch on again. "I'll explain the situation when he wakes up again. He's got to be the one to make this decision. It's his life. When can I expect the air drop?"

"Satellite weather info says the break should be this afternoon, before sundown. We'll call when they take off."

"Roger that, HQ. Tanana View out."

Snow set the mike down and turned the radio back to stand-by.

~~~~~~~~~~

"His blood type? Actually, no, I don't know. But I'll look and see what I have in my records."

Simms words rang out unexpectedly loud in the suddenly quiet bullpen. She ignored her team who were no longer trying to look as if they weren't eavesdropping and turned to Chief Strenlich. "Chief, go pull Kermit's personnel file from the top drawer in my office."

Back to the phone she continued, "Can you give me any more details? Um hum. I understand. Is there anyway I can talk directly to the lodge owner? No?"

"Captain?" Strenlich called to her from across the room.

She turned to see him holding an empty file. Damn him, she thought angrily, damn his paranoid, covert, secretive nature. Kermit had no right to remove those papers. The file had been empty when she arrived and she'd sat him down and personally watched as he filled out new paperwork, which she'd placed in the file herself. She could have cheerfully shot a second bullet into him at that moment. "I don't have his blood type available here but I think I know where I can find out," she told the man on the phone. "Yes, I'll try to get back to you within the hour. If I can't find out by then, is there anything else you can do?"

She nodded as she listened and looked somewhat relieved. 'Thank you. Yes, I'll be contacting his family. Thank you."

Hanging up the phone, she turned back to the bull pen. They all looked to her expectantly. "He's not in any immediate danger. He's safe at a remote lodge and has a bullet in the shoulder that needs to come out. They want to airlift out some whole blood as a backup in case it's needed. There's a bad storm and they can't get him out to the hospital yet, but the lodge owner has had some kind of medical training. Anyone know where we'd find his sister's phone number, since we obviously don't have any emergency numbers on file for him?"

Mary Margaret spoke up quickly as she reached for her phone. "Peter will know. He's been to her place. I'll call him on his cell phone."

Simms nodded and went to stand by her desk as Mary Margaret contacted Peter and got the phone number she needed. Then she took it to her office to call Marilyn privately.

Almost an hour later, she was ready to tear her hair out. She'd been on the phone constantly between a distraught Marilyn and the hospital. Marilyn hadn't known his blood type, but knew that his doctor at the hospital would. The hospital, in turn had refused to release any records without a signature and there was no way to get that in time. Since O-neg blood could be used if they didn't have a match, and his life wasn't in immediate danger, they didn't consider it an emergency. She finally convinced the hospital to take a verbal okay from Marilyn by phone and to send the information directly to the hospital in Fairbanks that was directing the medical procedures. She resisted the urge to slam the receiver back in its cradle and instead set it back gently, leaned a weary head back in her chair, closed her eyes and roundly cursed Kermit for the second time in an hour.

"Well, if that doesn't burn his ears, nothing will."

She opened her eyes and sat up. "Peter. You're walking softly these days. I never even heard the door open."

He gently closed the door after him, giving one of those Shaolin shrugs so like his father, "You were busy."

"He's okay. He's hurt but he's okay."

He took a chair and moved it closer to sit next to her and, taking her hands, told her, "I know. I checked with Mary Margaret first. I knew she'd have the latest update. What about you? You don't 'feel' okay to me."

She gave him a weak half-smile. "I've messed this up so badly. I tell myself I'm good at what I do here at work but my personal life is, as always, a mystery about which I have no clues."

"You decided not to pursue the relationship," he stated.

"Oh, you heard."

Her tone was sarcastic but jesting, still able to laugh at her situation since it was better than crying. His answering smile was kind. "Yes. And now, maybe you're thinking it was a mistake?"

"A giant mistake," she sighed. "I thought I could walk away before we'd gotten too....involved. But I still care."

"He still respects you."

She looked sharply at him. "He spoke to you about us?"

"Briefly, before he left. I wish I could tell you something to make you feel better, but I have to be honest. I think he felt you were right to break it off; that neither of you were ready for a relationship."

She nodded sadly. "I don't blame him. Maybe he's right. But I still feel......I don't know. Something. Too much."

"Guilt?"

She almost flinched at the word. It wasn't what she wanted to feel but she had to wonder herself. "I don't know. Honestly, I don't know."

"You're tired and caught up in a lot of emotional overflow. Perhaps after some rest, and when you know he's really okay and home safe, you'll be ready to sift through it and see if you've made a mistake or not. Until then, don't be so hard on yourself. Relationships aren't easy for anyone. And that's not something I've learned the easy way."

It was his smile that was self-depreciating this time and Karen remembered hearing that Peter and Jordan had parted ways recently too. "No, I suppose not. Thank you for reminding me at the cost of your own peace of mind."

They both stood and he reached to pull her into a hug he knew she badly needed. "Be good to yourself. This was exactly the situation you knew you might someday have to face. You sent him out to do a dangerous job. It could have happened to anyone out in that bullpen. It's your job to put individuals in danger, for the greater good. My father would probably have something profound to say here about fate, destiny and the universe unfolding as it should, but I'm not that good at this yet."

She could almost laugh at that. "You aren't as bad at it as you think. I feel better. And you were here exactly when you were needed. Your father could do no more."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"So just do it."

"Well, that's easy for you to say, but do you understand you're putting your life in the hands of a common ordinary inn-keeper; certainly not a doctor and someone whose last medical experience was on a dog?"

Snow told him all this, underplaying her skills, hoping he'd opt to wait out the storm.

"Lady, I once got 30 stitches from a guy who couldn't sew on a button if his life depended on it. It's not a pretty scar but I'm alive to show it off, so I'd say your doggie expertise is miles ahead of a half drunk mercenary with one eye, a bottle of backwoods hooch and the only needle in camp."

She looked at him skeptically. "I'll show you the scar," he offered.

"Uh, no thanks. I'll take your word for it. On second thought, I think I saw it already if you're talking about that maze over your ribs. But if this is what you want, I'll do my best," she promised.

Kermit gave her an encouraging smile. "You've been doing great so far. I already owe you my life."

She protested swiftly, "No, that was Radar. She found you, I didn't. The rest of the team and I would have run right over you and complained about the bumpy trail later."

"Radar found me, but you knew what to do. And you know what to do now."

She sighed. "Okay. But we still have to wait for that air drop. I'm not doing this without the blood. You're a quart low as it is. So could you eat a little? They won't be trying that drop for hours yet and you need to build up your energy."

He nodded and she went to get him a light meal. Kermit lifted the edge of the blanket that covered him and gave an exaggerated flinch. "Looks like you got to see just about everything. Guess that means I should add not very pretty to my resume right after incompetent."

"Self pity?" she asked, in a somewhat muffled tone, her head behind the refrigerator door.

"I don't deserve to wallow a bit under the circumstances? Besides, maybe I'm just fishing for compliments. I don't offer to show off my scars to just any inn-keeping, dog-doctor you know."

"Well, as impressive as they are, I've seen better. The guy next door who does odd jobs for me had an argument with a grizzly once and his scars make yours look like amateur hour," she teased back.

"Great, I'm not even getting compliments on the unscarred parts."

"Sorry," she laughed, "I was raised in communes, my mother was a midwife, my father painted nudes and I trained as an EMT. It takes some pretty spectacular body parts to get me to notice beyond basic anatomy. But just to keep you from sulking, I'll say yours' are the nicest I've seen in...well, months actually since I haven't been hot-tubbing with the neighbors lately."

She brought out the tray of food to set on the table while she slid the pillows under him again to raise him up slightly. "I don't suppose you'd consider having a glass of milk with this? You could use the extra calcium right now."

"Not likely," he grunted, trying to adjust himself comfortably.

"I could put some chocolate in there for you to make it taste better," she bribed.

"How about a slug of scotch in there and I'll think about it," he countered.

"Not likely. Not with the drugs you've been taking. Could you tolerate some calcium-enriched orange juice then?"

"Fine. Although vodka goes better in OJ than scotch."

She set the tray on his lap and went back to the kitchen to get his juice. "Sorry, as it happens I don't keep either around here. Most I have is some good burgundy for holiday dinners and rather fine bottle of very old brandy that I keep around strictly for medicinal purposes."

"I can see you'd need that, with the limited number of medicines you keep on hand," he commented sarcastically, sipping at a mug of soup.

"Hey, I have to account to Fairbanks Memorial and Dr. Pellerin for every cc I use," she protested, as she brought him a glass with a straw in it. "In case you didn't notice, I'm tracking everything I do."

She picked up a clipboard that was sitting on the coffee table to show him. It contained a list of medicines, times, dosage amounts and vital sign readings. "I might not be a licensed professional, but I am not entirely unqualified. Besides, this is Alaska. We help each other. We have Good Samaritan laws here, too. I'd be doing my best for you even if you weren't so charming and have such impressive scars. I'd even be helping if you were the guy who dumped you here, although I'd have kept the cuffs on you."

The mention of Frank Garrison made him fairly snarl with impotent rage. He was going to track that bastard down and drag him back to jail with the added penalties of assaulting a officer and attempted murder tacked on to his former crimes. Him and his entire gang of snowmobiling, backwoods yahoos.

She noticed his collared fury and thought perhaps it had not been a good idea to refer to the missing prisoner. But since she had brought it up, she voiced some concerns. "You don't think he's still hanging around here, do you?"

"You'd know better than I. How bad was the storm last night?"

She sat down on the edge of the couch to hold his juice for him. "Bad enough. They must be holed up somewhere by now. I heard he'd been living in town, but he obviously knows his way around out here."

"Or someone with him does," Kermit added.

"I'd hate to think that anyone I know would be helping someone so ruthless."

"Empty cabins?" he asked. "He could squatting."

"Entirely possible. There are several out this way."

Snow noticed he was no longer eating and the hand holding the mug of soup was trembling slightly with the effort of holding it. She took the mug from him, saying, "At the risk of damaging your delicate male ego, you look like you're getting tired. Let me hold this for you and help a little. You need to conserve what energy you have right now rather than expending it on pride."

"Pride?" he snorted, "I'm fresh out. I think it went into a snow bank along with my sunglasses and my gun. But if you could just hold it for me and don't insist on spoon feeding me. I've had about all the humiliation I can take for this month. I don't even want to mention that bedpan thing earlier."

"Deal."

She moved the straw from his juice to the mug and held it up where he could easily reach it when he wanted. "So what did this guy do back in your city that got him arrested?"

"He liked to rob banks, but that wasn't enough entertainment so he started shooting the occasional hostage or security guard. Not to kill. Just to hurt."

"Like you? He could have killed you outright, couldn't he?"

"I suppose, but that wouldn't have given him any jollies. He likes to see people suffer. Makes him even more dangerous. That and he slipped up last time and killed the guy he shot for fun. Now he knows he's going to get the maximum so he's got nothing to lose."

She sighed, "As if we don't have enough hardship up here, now we have a manic on the loose. Well, they caught him once. Maybe the Troopers will find him before he can hurt anyone else."

"If he's lucky, they'll find him before I do."

He was smiling, but his dark eyes were as cold and deadly as the bitter wind outside that howled along the treetops and screeched through the chimneys. Not liking what she saw, she turned away from his gaze and checked his progress on the soup. It was nearly gone so she put it down and took the tray from his lap. "I think it's something we don't need to worry about for the moment anyway. You should take a nap and I need to feed and water my team and by the time I get that done, I'll need a nap too."

She tugged some the pillows away and helped him to gently settle back down again. He closed his eyes almost immediately, the blood loss sapping his energy. "Come on, Radar. You could use some fresh air."

The wolf bitch got up from where she'd been laying on the floor next to the couch, but then sat back down and laid her head on Kermit's lap. His hand fluttered slightly in her direction, but then settled down again as she stuck her nose under his arm to reassure him that she was staying there.

"Fine," Snow groused at the animal. "Just stay there then. And I'll skin you alive if you wet on the rug, you traitor."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Snow was grateful that Radar decided to accompany her into the late afternoon gloom to retrieve the air drop of blood units. The Med-Evac team had put a small parachute on a well-insulated cooler and attached a lit flare before dumping it out over the lodge. The storm blew it into a tree but fortunately, not so high she couldn't reach it with the broom she fetched from the kitchen. The white-out had subsided, but the storm was still blowing fiercely and she had to have her lead animal to hang onto in the tempest. Radar was true to her name and led her safely back home.

"So you're A-neg. They need to keep that kind of information on file for you?" she asked as she pulled the top from the cooler to check the contents.

Kermit had been sleeping for most of the afternoon and was awake but still groggy. "Not lately. Peter's the one with the permanent reservation in emergency. They must have called Dr. Sabourin at the hospital to get that. The only other person who would have known is...let's say, on an extended vacation."

"Got some O-neg in here for backup too. Well, I'll put these extras on ice and then let's get started."

She'd busied herself laying out equipment while waiting for the Base to tell her the Med-Evac had taken off with her supplies and was ready when they called. They were including some additional drugs so she could use locals to numb the area rather than work with just painkillers that would put him out.

She sat down on the couch and, pulling on some gloves, picked up a wickedly large syringe. "Want a bullet to bite on?" she joked.

"Nope. How about a mirror so I can see better?"

"Really?" she asked, somewhat appalled. "I wouldn't want to watch."

"Really, I do. Not that I don't trust you. Just call it curiosity."

She went to get him a hand mirror and then, putting on fresh gloves, she pulled the bandage off and began to work. He didn't flinch, but she could tell by the set of his jaw and thinned lips that it was bad. "This stuff works fast. Last time I was doing something like this, Hawkeye bit me," she commented hoping to take his mind off the pain.

"Hawkeye? Like in Last of the Mohicans?"

"Hawkeye like in MASH. You know: Trapper, Radar, Potter, Frank, Klinger. Hawk's one of my wheel dogs. Most mushers use theme names for either their teams or for litters. Most of the team is made of Radar's pups so the MASH idea seemed right. It was that or Sonar, Stealth, Awacs, etc. There, that's done. We'll have to wait a few minutes for it to take effect. Maybe I should go get a quick snort of that brandy while we wait."

He looked at her quickly and saw the joking grin on her face. "Sure, go ahead. You'd still be more sober than the last doctor equivalent I had. But I warn you, my bite is worse than Hawkeye's if you slip. And I haven't kept up my rabies shots either."

"Ouch. Well, as much as I envy you all these wonderful pharmaceuticals, I think I'll pass then. I wouldn't want to have to sew myself up."

He viewed the area with the mirror. "You weren't kidding when you said that bullet was right up there. I could pull it out myself."

She looked slightly alarmed, "Don't even think it. You're just feeling cocky from that unit of blood you have running into you right now and all these drugs."

"Just a thought."

Snow relaxed and went back to joking to ease the tension. "I suppose with that mirror you think you're going to backseat operate too, don't you."

"Who me?" he asked innocently. "No. I'm just into blood sports and it's been a little dull around here for the past 24 hours."

"That's funny," she replied. "Here I've been thinking there's been too much excitement around here lately."

"You don't enjoy unexpected and unwelcome visitors then?"

She was suddenly serious, abandoning their teasing back and forth. "You aren't unwelcome. Unexpected, yes but not unwelcome. I'm just used to having the place to myself a lot in winter. I don't do crowds well. It's hard enough to handle all the people who come out here in summer. I get deluged with all these strange feelings when there are too many people around, like they're all walking around with their personalities worn on their fronts like tee shirt messages. I do what I have to for the business during the season, but I like the quiet of winter best."

"Don't you ever get lonely?" he asked gently.

"Not really. Sometimes I get visitors every few days or so. I let the neighbors use my laundry facilities and the shower. Sometimes it's one of the Troopers stopping for coffee. Races. It's not lonely out here. I rarely get more than a week to myself. So are you some kind of party guy who needs excitement all the time?"

"Me? No. I go home at nights and read a book, maybe surf the web a little. I get enough excitement between my day job and my hobbies."

"No family? No pets?"

He shook his head. "I have a sister who lives not too far away. She's usually busy with her kids or the new husband or the new baby. Pets I don't have time for. No offense, Radar," he added looking down at the wolf who still lay close by.

"So what do you do for hobbies then?"

"Oh, once or twice a year I try to get out to overthrow a country or jump in the middle of a little war. Shoot up a drug warehouse. That kind of thing."

"Not how I'd choose to spend my vacation."

He smiled sincerely, "Sometimes it's very gratifying."

"Hum, I suppose. Close your eyes," she ordered.

"Why?"

"Close them. I want to see if it's taken yet," she explained. "Feel this?"

"Feel what?"

"Good, Then we're ready."

She worked quickly and efficiently, easily removing the bullet and some bone chips that lay behind it. Bleeding was minimal--the doctors being correct about no major arteries in the area. Fortunately, the bone was cracked but not broken clean through. He made a few comments but kept the backseat direction to a minimum. "I'm not going to be stitching anything," she told him, "First because I don't know what I'm doing with stitches and second, because they'll probably open this back up anyway when you get to Fairbanks."

She cleaned and dressed it, then used some splint material to brace the shoulder and arm to keep them immobile. "That's it. Now all you have to do is tell me when the locals start to wear off and I'll shoot you up with enough to put you out through the night. And maybe by morning this storm will have blown itself out."

"You do nice work--steady hands and I bet you'd do fine needlework too," he praised.

"Remind me to show you Hawkeye's scar. You'll be glad I didn't do any stitching."

He made a disgusted sound and grasped her arm. "Take the compliment."

She stopped to consider him seriously and then said slowly, "Okay, you're right. I don't take praise very well. Had a surfeit of it growing up. My sensitive new age parents praised everything I did. I could never tell when they really meant it. I could call them up right now and tell them I'm marrying an axe murderer and they'd want to know if I was registered at Nordstroms or True Value Hardware."

"I joke a lot, but I generally don't say things I don't mean. If you ever decide to come out of hiding, you'd still make a great EMT," he told her, letting go of her arm and taking her hand to hold instead.

"What makes you think I'm hiding?"

He gave her a questioning look. "Aren't you?" he asked.

She shook her head. "This is lifestyle choice. If I wanted to hide, they're always looking for people to work in Antarctica."

"Boring place. Cute penguins, but they badly need a decent restaurant there."

It made her laugh. "Jumping into a war there? I don't remember hearing about it on the news."

"I was just checking out some rumors there. I travel a lot."

"With some luck you'll be traveling back to Fairbanks tomorrow," she said, looking at his hand as it held hers. "Radar will miss you."

"She could come and visit me in Fairbanks."

"Boring place. Even with the decent restaurants. But you never know. Sometimes that bitch takes it into her head to go someplace and all I can do is hang on to the sled and go with her."

As if she knew she was being talked about, the wolf sat up to push her nose into their joined hands. "I'd better clean up," Snow said as she slid her hand away and then with a small pat on the animal's head, turned to gather the instruments she'd used. And the quiet moment they'd shared slipped away at the same time.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The sunset had just spread a pink and gold glow over the hilltop behind the lodge when the ski plane touched down on the little airstrip. The dogs howled and danced madly on the ends of their chains during the entire time it took to bundle up the injured detective and hustle him aboard the small plane. The gurney they'd brought wouldn't fit into her sled so Snow brought out a snowmobile with a trailer to make the job of carting it up the hill easier.

The storm had blown itself out by late afternoon and the Med-Evac team had to move quickly to get to the lodge before the setting sun could prevent them from landing. They could land back in Fairbanks after dark on their own well-lit and well tended runway, but there was only natural lighting at the lodge's private airstrip. It was still deep with snow, but the experienced team had no difficulty setting the craft down safely.

There was hardly time for a quick good-bye and safe journey wish before they leapt back into the air. Snow stood knee deep in the drifts at the end of the runway with Radar as they watched the little plane disappear from view. The wolf whined softly and nosed her mistress's hand. "I know. You miss him. It's kinda quiet all of a sudden, isn't it? Come on, let's go home."

She whistled the animal up onto the trailer and started the motor, making a wide circle back towards the lodge. It wasn't until later that night as she sat on the floor in front of the fire that she decided she'd be making a trip to town. Just to talk to Dr. Pellerin, to go over what she'd done and to make Radar happy, she told herself.

~~~***~~~

The weather was clear and cold, temperatures dropping drastically sub-zero as they often did after the relative warmth of a snowstorm. She'd had to put a heater on the Bronco to start it after having it sit so long at the garage in Nenana. She rented space to park it there so she'd have a vehicle available whenever she wanted to travel beyond the little town. Another enterprising townsperson was paid to dog-sit her team until it was needed to take her home again. Radar, of course, accompanied her, being more family and friend than pet or property.

It was still morning, barely, when she pulled out of the town after visiting the Trooper HQ. She'd gotten the milepost number where Kermit's rental still sat on the roadside, awaiting the tow truck that would be sent to bring it back in. Fortunately, the snowplows hadn't buried it completely and she was able to pick up his overnight bag and briefcase. Radar was casing around, sniffing, no doubt excited by the scent of her friend when Snow got an idea. "Come on, Radar. Over here, girl. Okay, find. Go on. Find," Snow ordered.

It took some time and encouragement but Radar's accurate nose located the gun first. The glasses took longer since they were lighter and didn't carry the heavy odors of oil and gunpowder but they were finally found and dug out of the snow. She dusted the flakes off both, wiping moisture away and put them with the bags in her car. "Nice job, wolfie. I bet he's really going to like having those back."

They both climbed into the truck, glad to sit close to the heater as they turned onto the highway, heading north again. Snow kept a small condo in Fairbanks mostly for business trips, but also to accommodate friends, employees and lodge guests. However, she headed straight for the hospital this time. Tucking the gun and glasses into a small bag, she handed it to Radar to carry and took up the overnight bag and briefcase. She had stopped to get his room number from the main desk and then headed for the elevators when she heard a voice say, "Lady! Hey, lady. You can't bring that dog in here!"

She ignored the voice and got on the elevator, the door snapping shut before any one could stop them.

Once out of the elevator, she turned right, following signs to find the correct room. As she passed the nurses' station, an authoritative voice barked out, "Hold it! No dogs allowed in here. Take that animal out!"

A large, deep-voiced nurse stepped out to block their way. "No dogs," she repeated, hands on ample hips.

"That's not a dog. It's a wolf," Snow calmly replied.

"I don't care if it's a werewolf, it's still not coming in here," the woman insisted.

"Fine. Go ahead and put her out. If you think you can."

The nurse looked down at the Radar who, without dropping her bag, snarled a warning. "I'm calling security," she threatened.

"You do that little thing," Snow answered and walked on down the hall with her four-footed companion.

He'd probably been sleeping but was wide awake when Radar leapt on the bed and barked, dropping the bag on his stomach. "Radar? So you came to visit after all?" he asked, reaching to ruffle a pointed ear as the animal drooled her delight on his arm.

"She insisted on bringing you a get-well present. And I thought I'd drop these by," Snow said, coming into the room with his possessions. She set the briefcase on the table next to the bed where he could reach it easily and tucked the overnight bag into the closet. "We passed by your rental on the way to town."

"Well, what do we have in here?" he asked as he reached into the bag. "Oh, yeah!"

He pulled out the glasses first and slipped them on. "Now, I feel normal."

"You always wear sunglasses in bed?"

He grinned, "Only in hospital beds. Green is more soothing than all the white."

He had just pulled the gun out when the security guard and the nurse arrived.

"There they are," the nurse accused.

"Hell-o! Now that's what I call a gun. Hi, Snow. And Radar, what are you doing in here? You both know better than this."

Snow turned to smile at the guard as he patted Radar. "Hi, Mike. We won't be long. Just had to drop some things off."

Snow had worked with Mike several times during race season and knew him well enough to impose on his goodwill. "So I see. I'll take care of this, nurse," he said dismissively.

The nurse folded her arms and took a stance, but he stared her down and she left without comment. "I'll have to take that down to security lockup. Do you have a license for that, by any chance?" the guard asked, indicating the massive handgun.

Kermit gestured with the barrel towards the nightstand. "Badge is in there."

The guard looked curiously at him. "That's not a standard issue for a cop."

"I'm not your standard cop."

Snow opened the drawer to pull out Kermit's badge for him and the guard wrote out a receipt for the gun before taking it from him. "It'll be in our lockup in the security office on the main floor when you're ready to leave. And now," he said turning to Snow, "speaking of leaving, you two. Snow, what are you trying to do, get me in trouble?"

"Oh, come on Mike. You know Radar. Once she makes up her mind, there's no stopping her," Snow protested.

"Yeah, right, she's not the only one. How about you just put Radar in the car and then you can come back to visit."

She looked over to Kermit who shook his head as he ruffled the dog's fur. "It's okay. Don't bother. It's a boring here and I was just going to take a nap anyway. I'm drugged to the hilt and can hardly keep my eyes open as it is."

"Maybe we'll stop by tomorrow then."

The guard looked askance at her. "All right," she amended, "I'll stop by and Radar can wait in the truck. Tomorrow then. Off, Radar. Say good-bye."

He gave the animal one last pat as she leaped down and padded out. Snow gave his hand a quick squeeze as he thanked her for bringing his things, then left with the guard.

Kermit watched her go from behind the safety of his green glasses, tired, sore and somewhat to his own surprise, very, very pleased.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"If I wanted to eat Jello, you can bet your dandy little pink stripes it wouldn't be red!"

The shouting was punctuated by a airborne bowl of the substance in question and it was quickly followed by the rest of the tray that had accompanied it. They sailed past Snow's nose until they splattered and clattered on the opposite wall of the hallway.

"Now get out of here and don't come back unless you are bringing me some real food!"

Snow stepped aside just in time to avoid an agitated Candy Striper who burst from the room at a full gallop, She began to pick up the mess and Snow helped her by handing her the now empty bowl. "Sounds like someone didn't like his lunch," she commented to the angry woman.

"Didn't like his breakfast, neither. I was scraping up oatmeal from this very spot not four hours ago," she complained, "I'm not bringing him his dinner. They can just get someone else!"

Snow patted her arm. "Don't worry about it. Maybe the doctors will give him some kind of medication to put him out and then feed him through a tube."

"Yeah, well I know just the place they can put that tube," the woman muttered.

As she stood to leave, Snow reached out to pluck the napkin from the tray. "I think I'll need this," she commented and turned back to Kermit's room.

She stood out of sight and stuck in just a hand waving the white napkin before she called out, "I'm coming in. Don't shoot!"

Poking her head in first, she saw Kermit sitting up with the bed half-raised, his arm in a blue sling and propped carefully with pillows. The scowl led her to believe her joke had fallen a little flat, so she took another tack.

"That was just plain old mean, detective," she said as she walked in to stand next to the bed. "She's not responsible for what the doctor orders for you."

"Easy for you to say. She wasn't trying to spoon-feed you. I hate that. And she kept saying that 'we' stuff. I hate that too," he grumbled, head turned to look out the window as if he didn't want to meet her eyes. "Besides, you don't have to eat that crap."

"True," she nodded. "I had a hot, juicy, delicious hamburger for lunch. Kinda like the one in here."

And she held up the grease-stained paper bag she was carrying. She couldn't see his eyes behind the green glasses when his head swiveled back towards her, but the eyebrows rose with definite interest. She opened the bag, the better to let the odor waft out. "Of course, mine wasn't this delectable double bacon cheeseburger with the works on it, but then I don't need the calories."

"Did you plan just to torture me or are you going to unwrap that thing and hand it over?"

She grinned. "Well, I was bringing it for you, but since you're so ill-tempered today, perhaps I should give it to that poor woman you just chased out of here. Or I could be persuaded to give it to you if you said something real nice to me, maybe just for practice?"

"You drive a snowmobile well for someone who doesn't have a penis," he told her dryly.

She had to work at not laughing as she unwrapped the burger and set it up with the napkin so he could handle it. "So what put you in this kind of humor today?" she asked as she handed it to him.

"Try a fifteen minute long-distance lecture from my sister first thing this morning," he complained before he bit into the sandwich.

"Oh, family guilt trip. Yeah, that can do it for me."

He swallowed and gestured towards the sling. "I don't know what all they did to me yesterday but this thing is throbbing like a son-of-a-bitch today, too."

"I talked with Dr. Pellerin yesterday to see how I did and he mentioned that they had to pin the bone and put in quite a few stitches. I don't suppose you've asked for any pain medication, have you?"

He shook his head as he took another bite. "Haven't seen anyone today yet," he told her around a hearty mouthful.

"They're probably too scared to come in here with your behavior. I'll go and find the nurse and see what they have for you. You finish what you can of that. Maybe I can scare up some juice too."

"Look for a beer while you're at it. Scotch and hamburgers don't mix well."

She returned with the same nurse who had accosted her yesterday. "Oh, if it isn't Nurse Ratchet. How nice to see you again," Kermit greeted her.

"My name is Ms. Jackson," she corrected him.

"Don't get out to the movies much, do you?"

She looked at him realizing that he's probably insulted her but unable to figure out just how, apparently never having seen 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.' Waving the syringe she was holding, she threatened him, "I can put this in your fanny just as easily as in your arm, you know."

"Well now we'd both probably enjoy that, wouldn't we?"

"For heaven's sake, Kermit," Snow interrupted him, "She's trying to help you feel better. Knock it off."

"Feel better?" the nurse said, as she tore open an alcohol wipe, "At this point, I just want him out so he'll quiet down and stop scaring the help."

With a quick stab, she plunged the medication in his arm and commented, "There, now we'll both feel better," and then left before he could start in on her again.

Snow took the remains of his lunch from him and handed him the can of juice she'd rustled up for him. Then with a quick move, before he could complain, she tidied up the parts of lunch that had missed his mouth and landed on the bedclothes." How was it?" she asked.

"Not bad. The bacon was overdone and I'm not sure if that red thing qualified as a tomato."

Snow pulled up a chair and sat. "But better than red Jello?"

"Yes. Actually, it was good. And thank you for bringing it," he told her, his bad humor somewhat lightened. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on you. I'm just......"

"Hurting," she filled in for him, "and still recovering from a pretty overwhelming physical ordeal. Hypothermia is no picnic. Done that one myself. The doctor should have been in to see you hours ago and you should have been getting pain medication from the moment you woke up. They can put up with some bad humor around here if they don't want to do their jobs properly. Besides, you'll give them something to talk about for months. I told you it was a boring town."

"You're being far too nice to me. Are you sure I'm not dying?" he joked.

She shrugged and grinning, told him, "Well, I can't guarantee you won't be murdered before they kick you out of here. There's at least one Candy Striper who'd probably be willing to stir a little rat poison into your applesauce. But I'm not really all that nice. You didn't hear what I had to say to that nurse for not checking to see if you needed meds. I can be a tough cookie when I need to be. So what will you do when they let you out of here?"

The scowl returned. "Looks like my sister Marilyn is expecting me to stay with her, at least for a few days anyway. She was kind enough to point out that in her opinion, I'm totally helpless. I could just go back to my place, but then I'd have everyone I know from friends to co-workers barging in, trying to help and generally irritating the hell out of me. Or worse, an old girlfriend might show up. I broke up with someone recently. I don't think I could take any of her pity just right now."

"You don't sound happy about any of those options," Snow told him.

"I'm not."

"What about a private nurse in your home?" she suggested. "That way, no one would feel obligated to help."

"Possible. I know of a clinic, too. Spent time there before," he said thoughtfully. "All pretty pricey but do-able I suppose. But they'll all require a long plane trip and that I'm not looking forward to under these conditions."

"Stay here?" Snow said, "We have private nurses in Alaska, too. You can borrow my condo here in town. I'm staying there now but it's usually empty most of the winter anyway."

"Um," he grunted non-committedly. "Could. Be kinda boring since I don't know anyone up here but you. And I could still end up with my sister having to leave her new baby and husband to come up and check on me."

"You made a big impression on that Candy Striper. And maybe Nurse Ratchet does private work on the side?" she grinned.

"And maybe I can get her to wear her black leather uniform and bring her whip too. No thanks."

Snow hesitated before voicing her next suggestion. She wasn't sure if she was more afraid he'd take the offer or reject it. With head down to avoid the unnerving blankness of the sunglasses, she proposed, "You could come back out to the lodge."

"I was hoping you'd offer," he told her and she looked up at his face sharply. He didn't seem to be joking.

He continued, "But only if I'm a paying guest. Trust me, you'll earn your salary."

She nodded. "Okay. Room, board, assistance and I'll throw in a free companion wolf as part of the package."

He finally smiled for the first time that day at the mention of Radar.

They discussed her regular guest fees and settled on a figure. Snow made up a list of clothing and accessories he'd need and agreed to pick up the necessary items for him that afternoon. He was getting drowsy from the drugs by the time they'd worked out the details and she helped him move the bed back down to a level position, adjusting pillows as he settled down to sleep. "Will this upset your sister?" Snow asked as she gathered her things to leave.

"Probably. She'll get over it," he mumbled tiredly. "But this way, I'll be beyond her reach and won't have to listen to her guilt trip. She's good at that."

"If she's a Mom, it's no wonder. They're all champs at that," Snow agreed, tucking him in gently before she left.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"I'm sorry, Marilyn. It's a done deal. I have to go now. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I'll drop you a postcard in a week or two. Good-bye."

Snow found Kermit seated on the side of the bed, dressed and ready to go as he informed his sister of his plans. He held the receiver out at arm's length, cringing from the strident tones that were vibrating from the phone. "Kermit? Kermit? Don't you dare hang up! Kermit? Have you lost your mind? This is the most selfish......"

He put the receiver back gently down on the cradle. "I think that went well," he commented to Snow.

"Not," she shook her head. "Call her back. Let me talk to her and maybe I can reassure her that you'll be all right."

"No, she'll just start in on you. I'm all signed out. One more call and we can go."

He took the receiver off to lay on the pillow as he punched in numbers one-handed. "Captain Simms," he requested. "Not in? Chief? It's Kermit. Yeah, I'm fine. You get the papers the doctor said he'd fax? Good. Yeah, he told me three weeks. Look, I'm going back out to the Tanana View Lodge until then. Yep, the same place. Let the Captain know, would you? No, you won't be able to contact me. I'll get in touch if I need to. Right. Bye."

He dropped the phone back in place and stood up, swaying a little. Snow reached out a steadying hand and he held on to catch his balance. "Let's get out of here," he requested, "before Nurse Ratchet decides I need one last rectal temperature."

"Were you pissing her off again?" Snow asked, leading him to the door.

"Me? No. She has an anal fixation."

"Then no doubt it was your asinine behavior that attracted her attention. You're getting no sympathy here."

"I thought we'd included sympathy in this package deal. I'm willing to pay extra. Don't forget we need to stop by and see your rent-a-cop buddy. I'm going to deck him if he's been playing with my gun."

"Deck him? You couldn't deck the Jack of Diamonds in your condition," she chided.

The nurse came around the corner of the station with a small bag. "Don't forget your meds."

Snow thanked her and tucked the bag in her pocket. "It's been real fun, Nurse Ratchet," Kermit acknowledged. "I can't tell you how much I'm going to miss your cold hands at 5 am."

"Yeah, I'm really gonna miss you too. Take real good care of yourself because I never want to see your sorry ass in here again."

Snow almost groaned and half dragged Kermit into the elevator. "Come on, Mr. Congeniality. Let's go get your gun."

"See," he told her. "I told you. Sorry ass, she said. Anal fixation. Pitiful."

After picking up the precious handgun, Snow settled him in the Bronco with no help from a certain overexcited husky/wolf. They headed out immediately for the airport where she'd arranged for them to be flown back out to the lodge. "What about your team?" he asked, "And what are you going to do with the truck?"

"All taken care of. I've got a friend who has family in Nenana who will take the truck back out there for me and the Troopers are bringing the team in for me tonight," she explained. "Doc Wells will come out on a two man snowmobile so he can check on your surgery and change the dressing for you. Another trooper will drive the team and then they'll both go back in the morning on the snowmobile."

"You always get that kind of service?" She grinned. "I'm one of the few single women within 200 miles who is under 60 and I can cook. You'd be amazed what I can get them to do."

"Spare me the details," he grumbled making her laugh out loud.

The plane was ready for them when they arrived. She insisted he wait in the relative warmth of the air service's office with Radar while she and the pilot loaded the bush plane with her supplies, making sure everything was properly balanced and secured. Then, after settling him in and strapping him down, they took off into the frigid air. The sky was crystal blue and the land beneath them looked like it had been frosted thickly with the purest white snow he'd ever seen. He was more used to the thick greens of rainforest or desert hues of every shade from ocher to rust, but this broad land with its clear Northern colors and full range of blues to purples was hard to resist. Even through green glasses, it had an undeniable beauty all its own. The landing was smooth. Someone had plowed the strip. "Probably my neighbor, Evan. He's my handyman and a real gem. Does what's needed without being asked," Snow mentioned as she helped him from the plane.

The pilot began unloading boxes onto the snow-packed strip behind them while Radar took off to the dog yard to use the doggie facilities. Snow left Kermit near the dog yard, instructing him to walk slow and carefully to the bottom of the stairs while she ran on ahead to open up the lodge. She'd be back to help him negotiate the steep stairway, she told him. He didn't listen and quietly crept up the stairs and into the entryway behind her, arriving just in time to see her raise a hand through the open doors toward the fireplace where a fire suddenly leapt into being. If he had not had experience with the unusual through his association with the Caines, he might have found it unnerving.

"Nifty trick," he commented, startling her.

Her eyes grew wide and her face paled. "But I'm not too impressed," he added pushing past her into the lodge. "I have friends who can do the same thing."

He casually began to struggle from the thick Parka she'd bought for him to replace the one he's ruined. "Going to close your mouth and the door and give me a hand here?" he gently asked.

She helped him out of the outerwear and then settled him on the couch he'd occupied during his first visit. Dumping an armload of fuel on the fire, she tossed a blanket over him and mumbled something about having to bring in the supplies and then fled. He looked over to the brightly burning fire and murmured to himself, "How very Shaolin of you."

~~~***~~~

She didn't want to talk about it later, but he pressed her anyway and she told him that she'd learned it from an old man who had been teaching her mother about medicinal herbs. "My folks were living in a commune out in California and I was going to college. I had the summer off and was helping out my mom with her midwife practice when he came to stay with us for a while. He taught me. Started with candles, but with practice and meditation, I was able to learn to do, well, more."

"Like?"

She sighed. "Besides start fires, I can turn electrical things on and off pretty well too. I have to be in the same room though. I'm not bad with picking locks. A hairpin will get me in just about anywhere, but it takes a while."

He made no comment so she went on, "I can tell how people are feeling too. That year it got so bad, I dropped out of school and came north. It was like feeling everything that everyone around me was feeling all at once. I had mood swings wilder than roller coaster rides. I couldn't even sleep at night. So I just gave up and came out here to get away from it all."

"Can you tell how I feel?" he asked, curious.

"Your shoulder is starting to hurt more and you should have had another pain pill at least an hour ago. If you'd take them regularly, they'll dull the pain better," she told him, getting up to get him his medication.

She brought him a pill and a glass of water. "You forgot the scotch that goes with this, didn't you?" he commented, taking the pill first.

"There's a bottle of scotch in the cupboard for when you get off the meds. Probably by this time next week if you'll be a good boy," she promised. "I got it along with the other supplies yesterday. But you're going to have to earn it."

"And you think this is going to get us off the subject we were discussing? I wanted to know what emotions you were sensing from me, not my physical feelings."

She frowned at him, handing him the glass, "I'm through discussing. We're supposed to have company tonight and I need to get in the kitchen. We're having spaghetti just so I can have the fun of watching you try to eat it one-handed. Take a sip of this and lean back and take a nap."

"I don't think I'm quite through discussing this but we can save it for a later date. I'm not going anywhere," he promised her, "and I'm not going to forget it."

"I think you have this backwards. I'm supposed to be nagging you."

"I'm a detective. I collect data and solve puzzles."

"I'm not a puzzle. I'm a person. And you're a person who needs a nap. See, I can nag as well as you can."

She put the glass where he could reach it if needed and helped him to arrange pillows and the blanket. Then she hesitated before going to attend to her work. "Kermit?" she asked for his attention.

"Yeah?"

"No one has ever seen me do that except the man who taught me. Please don't tell anyone. I'll deny it anyway and you'll just look stupid."

"Okay, I won't mention it to anyone who can't do the same thing," he agreed. "Will that satisfy you?"

"I guess so if that's the best you can do," she accepted and walked back to the kitchen. Radar jumped up on the couch to stretch along his good side which was facing away from the fire. He appreciated the warmth and stroked the wolf's head and ears. "Your missy is quite some surprise, isn't she?" he asked her and Radar stuck a wet nose under his hand in agreement.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Snow sat down in the easy chair closest to the fire to enjoy the heat and the peace that radiated throughout the room. On the couch, Kermit snoozed quietly with Radar sacked out at his side. The two had become inseparable and for a few moments she wondered what it would be like when he was gone. It had only been one week since she'd found the detective lying in the snow, closer to death than she cared to think about. Life had taken on new color and she knew she was going to miss his company when the time came for him to leave in a couple of weeks. Radar would be desolate.

He didn't look particularly comfortable with those sunglasses on, but fell asleep in them more often than not so she didn't bother removing them for him.

Outside the sunrise was turning the shadows blue and the sky all gold, pink and purple as if Apollo was trying to exceed the midnight Aurora. The Alaskan dawn came late in mid-winter. After breakfast, she'd fed and watered her team, set up a couple loaves of sourdough bread to rise and finished her household chores. When Kermit woke again, she was going to suggest a bath for him. They'd struggled through a few sponge baths, but he was ready for the full treatment. Doc had removed the stitches the other day and told her just to tape some plastic over the bandages so he could get into the tub. He needed a good shampoo and a shave too, she considered looking at him. The other day, she'd convinced him to cut off that awful beard, but it was coming back in fast and heavy. Perhaps later he could go outside for some fresh air while she took water to the dogs in the afternoon.

He'd been overjoyed to find out that she had a computer and was on-line via a satellite dish on the roof. She'd come in to find out what he was snickering at one afternoon when the laptop screen had gone black and then a message had flashed out, "Griffin! Knock it off or it's nuclear retaliation--understand?"

It had positively delighted him and it turned out, much to her horror, he hacked his way into the Pentagon's main computer terminal and had sent out a general memo about sexual harassment in explicit language along with a very naughty photo he'd copied from some site out on the web. She had to threaten to pull his privileges if he didn't behave.

But his behavior actually had been good compared to his performance at the hospital. With one exception: Trooper Tom Thompson. The two had taken to squaring off like rutting bull moose every time they met. It had started with a probably not so innocent remark from Tom about Kermit's prisoner still being at large and had escalated from there. Other than that, he'd been polite to her visitors and surprisingly nice to Evan and Nora Albright's kids when the neighboring family came for a morning of coffee, showers, and laundry, staying through lunch.

They had six children, 3 of each sex and life was hard for the homesteaders. Snow did what she could to help by employing Evan as a handyman year-round and finding ways to add the occasional bonus to his pay. His pride kept her from doing more. Their cabin was far more rustic, with no running water or electricity; not uncommon for the area but certainly a difficult life for a large family.

The kids had taken to calling him Uncle Kermit and with his sister's kids, he wasn't unused to the title and accepted it gracefully. He played board games and computer games with them while the oldest girl, Sierra and the adults talked and did laundry.

Radar's eyes opened and her head came up, calling Snow's attention to her invalid guest. He was waking up. As if by instinct, he turned his gaze to where she sat silently. "What time is it?"

"Almost 10. Sunrise. Has your breakfast worn off yet?"

"Nope."

"Well, then how about a shower or bath?" she offered.

"Sounds great to me. Bath, if you don't mind. I'd like to soak a while."

"I've got some nice rose scented bath oil if you're interested."

It was amazing how disgusted he could look with his eyes covered by the sunglasses. "Not if you value your life."

"Oh come on, be a sport. No one will smell you this far from civilization," she teased. "Just me and Radar and she's a sucker for flowers."

"Un uh. My luck, Trooper Tommy will show up for lunch and I'll never hear the end of it. Besides, I'm expecting company any day now. I'm betting either Marilyn or Peter will be on your doorstep soon."

"Peter?" she said thoughtfully, "isn't he the cop who turned priest you were telling me about?"

"Yep. They'll probably send him unless Marilyn is more pissed than I figure."

"Well, then let's get you cleaned up so you'll look pretty. I want to get a picture of you sitting in that tub with your sunglasses on. No one believes me when I tell them you wear them all the time."

She gave him a hand to steady him as he got up off the couch. "Fat chance," he told her. "You bring in the camera and I stand up. No one will develop those kind of photos for you."

"Bet me," she grinned. "I have a digital camera. If you really want to exhibit your shortcomings, I can even email them to the Pentagon."

~~~***~~~

Peter wasn't particularly surprised when he got a message asking him to stop by the precinct to see Captain Simms. He was however, somewhat surprised to find Marilyn in her office; the new baby being cosseted by both Jody and Mary Margaret out in the bullpen.

"Please come in and sit," invited Simms.

"What's wrong with Kermit?" he asked as soon as he settled.

"We don't know," the captain answered and Marilyn chimed in, "Neither of us has heard from him. I'm worried."

"We're all worried," Karen corrected.

He leaned on his hand to consider for a moment. "You got the doctor's report, didn't you? It said he'd be fine barring any complications. And he said the lodge doesn't have a telephone, right?"

"Yes, but he promised he'd write or something and I haven't heard a thing," Marilyn protested. "Maybe he's had complications."

Her distress was so immediate and compelling, he leaned over to take her hand, willing some calm and peace for her. "Marilyn, you know Kermit better than any of us..."

She interrupted, "I thought I did, but this last year, he's been more distant than ever. He actually hung up on me when I talked to him at the hospital."

Peter could guess a number of reasons why her brother would be distancing himself from her, all of them logical and legitimate to Kermit's mind. He was concerned for her safety, but his concern was probably creating more tension than ever between the siblings. "He does this. He goes away to lick his wounds and heal and he comes back to you when he's ready. This isn't unusual for him."

"No, not unusual. But this time, I just have a bad feeling."

He looked to Simms. She nodded. "I think he may be staying up there to look for Garrison. And in his condition, he's probably not functional enough to tackle the job if he does find him. I'm concerned."

"Well, that's true. He can't shoot worth a nickel left-handed," Peter noted. "So you want me to go up and bring him back?" "You're the only one who could persuade him, Peter," Marilyn pleaded. "He won't listen to me."

Simms was careful with her wording, not meeting his eyes as she pointed out, "I don't think he'd listen to me either right now, even if I could take the time to go."

"We'll pay for your ticket and any expenses. Please," Marilyn urged.

Peter nodded. "Okay. On one condition. You send me, you trust my judgment. He may not be ready to come home and I can't make him. I will promise that I'll stay with him if I feel he's in any danger. And both of you have to stop worrying and leave this to me."

Both agreed swiftly and he held out his hands in surrender saying, "When is my flight?"

Simms whipped the tickets out of a top drawer and handed them over. "Tomorrow. Have a safe journey and please, let us hear from you soon."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

It was very late when Snow heard Kermit moving in the other room and wondered if he'd had another nightmare. The first couple nights since the hospital, he'd shouted out in his sleep so loudly, it had brought her to full awareness in an instant. She'd rushed out to find him cringing with pain from wrenching his shoulder when he jerked awake. After a few nights of sitting with him, talking calmly while the drugs took hold to let him sleep again, she'd finally gotten him to talk about it, reminding him that he knew her deepest secret. It would only be fair if she knew his. The story was truly horrible and even with the way she was sure he had edited, it was no wonder it had left him with frequent nightmares. She was still half asleep and resisted the thought of getting up. He'd call if he needed her. She had almost drifted off again when she felt the bed move and realized it wasn't just Radar. "Kermit?" she asked sleepily.

"Yeah, just go back to sleep."

But he was cuddling up next to her in her bed. "What's wrong?"

"Fire's out," he complained. "I'm cold and I can't sleep and I just want some warmth and human company, okay?"

"Hurting?"

"Nope, not physically anyway. Just go back to sleep."

It seemed like the logical thing to do and she was just too tired to protest and besides, it did feel good to snuggle so she settled back down and went to sleep.

She woke to a buzz saw resounding in her ear. He was snoring lightly, still cuddled close. It was a bit odd but she was fully dressed in flannel PJ's and he had on a pair of sweatpants, socks and a tee shirt so it didn't feel particularly carnal. And it wasn't like she was exactly a virgin. She'd slept in group beds in the communes where sleep, sex and even fine dining had gone on at all hours. So she got up to start her day without giving it any more thought. Radar looked up from where she lay over his feet and then put her head back down to wait for her new god to wake.

He made no mention of it when he got up either.

The day passed quickly with no visitors. To help exercise the dogs, she took him out for a short time in the early afternoon to try his hand at ice fishing on a nearby lake. She bundled him up carefully with the heated bags of corn packed around him and made him stay in the sled. The auger had to bite through over 3 feet of solid ice to reach the water. Amazingly enough, he'd never fished before. "In CIA survival school, they taught us to eat bugs and grubs. Easier to catch and you don't have to cook them," he shrugged.

She blanched, "Don't even try to convince me they taste like chicken."

"They don't," he grinned, "They taste like crap. But if you're hungry enough and determined to survive, you'll eat anything."

"Well, I have plenty of Spam in the pantry if you don't catch dinner and you're determined to survive."

"Now don't try to convince me that Spam tastes like chicken," he protested.

"No. But it's a step up from bugs and grubs."

He was pleased to catch two good-sized fish for their dinner and she took pictures of them for him.

Later, that evening she was banking the fire in her bedroom woodstove when he came out of her bathroom after brushing his teeth. "Why don't I just get in bed here now instead of in the middle of the night?" he asked.

She stopped and turned to him, somewhat surprised. "Were you planning on doing that?"

He nodded, "It was nice and warm and you don't snore much. You have a nice bed and I'm not ashamed to admit I like my comforts."

Snow turned back to the woodstove so he couldn't see the smile on her face, "All right. Like you said, warmth and comfort. I'm not offering anything else in case you're wondering. But I've lived in communes for too many years for anything to shock me."

"Even nightmares?"

She stood up, dusting off her hands. "Okay, that story shocked me. I had no idea of the endless limit to man's inhumanity to man. But you personally don't scare me. It's not like I couldn't beat you off easily if you decided to....wait a minute. Let me rephrase that. Stop laughing."

She smacked his head lightly for his sniggering at her Freudian slip, as he sat down quickly at the foot of the bed, laughing too hard to stand. "I'm just saying you're in no condition to be a threat to my virtue, okay, Mr. Gutter Mind? And I'm no threat to yours. Do we have that straight?"

"Works for me."

She set him up with extra pillows to keep him from rolling over onto the injured shoulder and made Radar move back down to the foot. In the early morning hours, when the nightmare started, she was able to reach over to soothe him enough to keep him from coming fully awake.

~~~***~~~

In Fairbanks, it had taken Peter some time to track down the right people to talk to. He'd had suggestions of renting a car, buying a snowmobile and chartering a bush plane before he finally contacted the Troopers in Nenana. They simply offered to drive him out to the lodge on snowmobile if he would drive down to their HQ. Early the next morning, he rented a car and set out with a map, not that he really needed it on the one road that led to the little town. Still, it was a comfort in the vast tracts of land that spread out around him, so unlike the urban landscape he was used to. The temple grounds had been ample in California and it had seemed at times that they had built in wilderness, but it was nothing compared to this. He arrived in the little town just as the late rising sun was creeping up over the mountains.

At the HQ he sat briefly to have coffee with a Trooper Wells, called Doc by the group who had taken Kermit's stitches out a few days earlier. "He's recovering well," the Trooper assured him, "And it's no surprise. Snow knows what she's doing and is taking good care of him. If I had been put in that position, I'd have gone out there too. Nice place, good food, all the comforts of home but no tv or telephones to stress you out."

"But it's not a hospital and she's not a doctor," he pointed out.

"No, but this is Alaska. Living on the frontier gives us a different view of life and its processes. The body heals itself, Mr. Caine. Being in a hospital wouldn't help your friend. Besides, from what I've heard, the stress on both him and the nurses was detrimental rather than beneficial."

Peter almost snorted at that one. "Yeah, he doesn't do injured well. But I can't fault him on that. I'm no better a patient than he is."

"I'm sure you'll be convinced once you're out there that it was a good place for him to go."

Later, as they readied to leave, they had taken him over to a small store to buy a snowmobile suit, parka and the proper accessories: boots, gloves and an insulated helmet. "Where we're going is beyond any cold you may have previously experienced," the trooper informed him. "It's a long trip--well over an hour at high speed and you don't want any frostbite, trust me."

He held up a hand with a couple shortened fingers. Peter turned back to the gloves, grateful for the Gold Card that Simms had given him for purchases. He was buying the best, damn the cost.

The snowmobile that was brought out for the trip was huge, but it turned out to be customized for the Troopers and larger than most typical machines. Trooper Thompson who would be driving was busy securing a medium sized cooler onto the far back on top of Peter's overnight bag. "What's that?" Peter asked.

The trooper grinned at him, "The way to an Alaskan woman's heart."

"Ice cream? Chocolate?" Peter joked. "Why do you need to keep it cold?"

The man shook his head, "It's not cold. I have it heated in there. The insulation keeps the cold out. You'll see," he added mysteriously.

They went through how the trip would go, time and the approximate speed. They'd generally be following the Tanana River since the Tanana View Lodge was built on a hill overlooking the river. Peter was cautioned to hang on tight as they'd be moving at speeds up to 50 mph where possible. After a quick lesson in using the helmet radios, the trooper settled him in the back rider's seat and started up the machine with a thundering roar that echoed back from the mountains behind them. "Say good bye to civilization," suggested the Trooper as they pulled away from the HQ building and off into the forest trail.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"You must be Peter Caine. He said you'd probably show up sooner or later."

Peter eyed the woman suspiciously. She was a good deal shorter than he and had a little gray streaking here and there through her brown hair. He took a guess that she was also older than he, although the fine texture of her skin belied that. The flickering fire and candle light gave her long braid glints of red along with the silver. She could only be described as plain, but her eyes were a beautiful soft green. She was dressed in a baggy flannel shirt and tight, worn jeans with soft moccasin boots on her feet. He looked around the lodge, not seeing anyone else. Behind him, Trooper Thompson was hanging up their outerwear in the entry way.

As if noticing his searching, she commented, "Kermit is asleep. He usually takes a nap in the afternoons. He's only been down for an hour and if you don't mind, I'd rather not wake him. He needs the rest."

Peter nodded. "Can I see him?"

She gestured to her right and led him to a room, quietly opening the door. Kermit was sound asleep on a large, rustic log-framed bed that well matched the lodge decor. A big white dog laying on the bed next to him lifted its head to stare as if on guard. Peter watched Kermit's slow breathing for a moment, but his friend never woke from the disturbance. He was mildly concerned, since the man he knew never dared to sleep so soundly.

Snow closed the door as quietly as she'd opened it and moved them back into the main living room area to talk. "That house-Husky was my leader, Radar. She found him and thinks she owns him now. They usually nap together. Would you like some coffee or perhaps some tea? I keep herbal teas around too."

"Coffee would be fine if it's already made," Peter answered.

"A mug-up for me, too if you don't mind," the trooper put in as he kicked off his boots to pad stocking-footed into the main room.

Peter looked questioningly at the man who explained, "A mug-up is Alaskan for a cup of coffee and some kind of snack. It's the customary thing to offer your guests. And here's the customary hostess gift," he added, handing her the cooler he'd brought in with Peter's bag.

"This better be what I think it is Tom, or you're in big trouble for teasing me. Not that you needed to bring a gift."

"Yeah, I know, you'll take in just anyone, won't you?"

She gave him a sideways squint of warning. "Don't start!"

He just grinned so she tugged the top off. From under the insulating newspaper, she pulled a head of lettuce, tomatoes and a cucumber. "Ah! Manna from heaven!" she exclaimed, holding a tomato up to sniff appreciatively. "Okay, this deserves a mug-up. You're in luck. I pulled a cinnamon coffee cake out of the oven a while ago. I think it's even still warm," she volunteered.

She led them to the table outside the kitchen area and poured out three mugs of coffee from a waiting pot in the kitchen. Bringing two to the table for Peter and the trooper, she returned to the kitchen to sip on hers while slicing up the fresh cake.

"So I see you finally got Mr. Manners off the couch. He takes naps in your bed now? I figured you'd banish him back to the dorms," the trooper commented casually.

Snow frowned. "I don't know how you two got off on the wrong foot together, but I wish you'd quit sniping at each other. Not that sleeping arrangements in my home are any of your business, but the dorms are too cold this time of year for anyone to sleep there. However, I can make an exception for you if you're planning on staying over."

He laughed, "Hey, I was just asking. But yes, we'd like to stay the night if you don't mind the company," answered Tom. "I was telling Mr. Caine about your prowess in the kitchen and thinking today was your day for making that killer stew."

"I just have good recipes and good timing. You make it sound lethal."

"Well, it's certainly killed my desire for any other stew than yours," he complimented her.

She brought out a plate of the coffee cake slices and went back to the kitchen for plates and forks to set on the table. "I was planning on Swiss moose steak, but I guess I can switch gears and get some stew together."

"Don't go to any trouble on my account," Peter told her. "My father always said I had no taste when it comes to food. I'll eat anything."

"No bother. I like to cook. That's one of the reasons I became an inn-keeper."

"Inn-keeper. But not a nurse. Or professional care-giver?"

Snow smiled wryly. He was as Kermit described him, ready to jump right in to the heart of the matter. "Not professional, but adequate. I've had some medical training and experience. Kermit didn't want to go home. I offered. He agreed. Simple as that."

Peter looked troubled. "I can understand he didn't want to come home and be a bother to his sister. What I can't understand is why he would choose this place over a professional clinic where he's stayed in the past."

Snow sighed and looked to the trooper. "Tommy, could I get you to bring in some more firewood? I think Mr. Caine and I need to talk a little."

He nodded agreeably and headed out to the front entryway to pick up his jacket, snagging a slice of the coffee cake on the way.

When he was gone, Snow picked up her mug and brought it to the table to sit across from Peter. "He was angry. Mostly at himself for getting in trouble, I think. And, from what he told me, he didn't want his sister hovering over him, making him feel guilty for messing up. I understand he had a lady he was involved with, but he indicated they had broken up and he didn't want her to feel guilty either. And, although he hasn't said anything definite, I think he's hoping that if he stays up here, he'll have a chance to bring Garrison back in. I know he doesn't like having lost his prisoner."

It made sense to Peter. Kermit was always harder on himself than on anyone else. And it confirmed what they'd already thought about his wanting to track down Garrison.

She continued, "He also mentioned that this was the first place he'd really felt safe in a long time."

Peter nodded. "Kermit has.....a past. Sometimes it catches up to him."

"He's told me some."

"Really? I'm surprised. It took him years before he'd talk to me and even then, some of it I had to find out from other resources."

Peter's mind turned to the man who set him back on a straight course. Paul Blaisdale. More than friend, or father. A man who knew better than most about Kermit's checkered past.

"Well, I think I've had him at a disadvantage. He's gotten rather relaxed here. And he's been on some pretty strong drugs too. Sometimes he gets positively chatty."

They both smiled at that description. She continued, "He said he's comfortable here with my 12 dog alarm system out back. No one comes around that we don't know about right away. They bark at friend and foe alike."

"Yeah, I heard the racket when we drove up. And it is a little off the beaten path. I can see how he'd be off his guard here."

"He's talked about his sister and he loves her. He didn't want her to have to neglect her new husband and baby in order to care for him. He's pretty clumsy with that left hand and he's not real happy about not being able to do simple things for himself. It makes him a little testy. I'm sure his family and friends could put up with that too, but this way he can take it out on a stranger instead; a stranger who gets paid to take his BS and care for him without any guilt on either side."

Peter had been listening carefully with both his ears and his Shaolin senses. She made it sound logical. He was sure she wasn't lying. But he was also certain she was not offering the full truth.

"Well, that explains why he didn't want to come home. But that doesn't explain why you offered to care for him."

She wasn't smiling anymore. "No, it doesn't. You'll see he's getting the care he needs and wants. He's perfectly capable of making decisions for himself and I think if you are really his friend, you should respect that. Beyond that, it's just none of your business. I don't owe you any explanations."

Peter's jaw nearly dropped but he took a sip of coffee instead, his emotions at full boil. She had some nerve, telling him to mind his own business he thought angrily. As representative of Kermit's family and his work via Simms request, Kermit's welfare was his business.

A year ago he would have been on his feet by now, and no doubt raising his voice more than a little. But that was the old Peter. He considered her carefully, watching her sip her coffee. She didn't flinch or back off from his stare. And, he decided, perhaps in a way, she was right. The real issue was not why Snow offered but why Kermit had taken up the offer. He needed to hear from Kermit first. Something had made him stay and it seemed most likely that Garrison was the reason. A very dangerous reason.

"You're right of course," he finally said, "I am Kermit's friend and as his friend, I just want to make sure he's all right and knows what he's doing. His sister is very worried about him, which is why she sent me."

"I think he's aware of that and that's why he expected you. I'm sure he's hoping you'll be able to reassure her that he's fine."

Thompson came in via the kitchen door and dumped a load of firewood into a box next to the woodstove at that moment, so Snow got up and excused herself, mentioning that she needed to prepare some things for dinner. Peter took a bite of the coffee cake and decided that Kermit had at least found a good cook if nothing else.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Kermit woke slowly, feeling rested and moderately content. He didn't hurt too much and, with the lessening of the drugs, felt less groggy. He was almost in a good humor until he had to contend with the bathroom. It was the same struggle and he ended up frustrated and angry as usual, unable to zip up his jeans one-handed. "Sweatpants. Tomorrow, it's sweatpants, I don't care how stupid I look in them," he told Radar who was waiting patiently outside the open door.

The bedroom door opened and Snow called in, "Are you ready for a hand?"

"Yes," he acknowledged and she came in to zip and button the Levis for him. "I think you might want to let me comb this a little," she offered, running a hand through his hair to smooth it down. "We have company."

"Oh, Trooper Tommy checking up on you?" he asked. "Yeah, I wanna look good for him," he added sarcastically, handing her the comb.

"As a matter of fact, yes. And a friend of yours, too, so stop being so snotty and hold still."

She finished combing his hair and readjusted the arm sling for him. "Well, I know it's not Marilyn, because if it were, she'd be in here already. Must be Caine," he guessed.

"As you figured. But, please be nice to Tom. It was good of him to escort your friend out here personally. And he's not your enemy. You're both servants of the law, remember?" she pleaded.

He went to pick up his sunglasses from the bedside. "Who me? I'm always nice to nice people. Hey, Peter, nice of you to drop by," he called out as he left the room with Radar trailing behind him. "Just in the neighborhood, eh?"

"Great. Here come the fireworks," Snow muttered as she followed.

Peter stood to take the left hand offered by his friend to clasp and reached up to half hug him gently. Kermit looked over to the trooper who was still seated, sipping his coffee. "Trooper," he acknowledged.

"Detective," nodded the trooper who only paused briefly before starting in with, "So I see you've weaseled your way into the most comfortable bed in the lodge."

"Really and how do you know it's the best bed? Not from personal experience I'd say."

Kermit's smile was as nasty as Peter had ever seen it. The trooper looked more uncomfortable than angry but he shot back with, "That's because I haven't been rude enough to take advantage of a lady's kindness and repay it by turning her out of her own bed."

"What makes you think she's not sleeping there too?"

Snow stepped in with a deadly, "Enough!"

She gave Kermit a push back towards the living room suggesting that he and Peter might want to get comfortable by the fire to talk. "Tommy, since you're the one asking for stew, why don't you come out here in the kitchen and give me a hand?"

"With pleasure," he growled, shooting a look to Kermit.

Kermit snickered as he went to lower himself into an easy chair near the fireplace. "God, I love baiting him. That's as much fun as hacking."

Snow brought Kermit a mug of coffee and set the plate of cake on the coffee table near by. "I thought you were going to behave yourself. You know, not only do I have room in the dorms, I could put you out in the dog yard with a little more provocation," she threatened as she turned to go.

Kermit smiled to Peter. "She likes me," he said, setting his coffee down to stroke Radar's head. The wolf settled down on the far side of his chair, away from the heat of the fire, glaring at Peter. "And this is my shadow, Radar who loves me. Radar, this is Peter. He's a friend so you be nice."

The animal looked up adoringly at Kermit and then lay down with her head on his foot when he abandoned his petting to take up his coffee mug.

"So tell me how you're really feeling," Peter asked.

"Good, considering I'm getting too damned old for this crap. It's healing and the drugs are top of the line. So who sent you?"

Peter could see his friend was comfortable and at ease in way he'd rarely seen before. "They both did," he answered, knowing Kermit would know who he was talking about. "Why didn't you come home? We were all pretty worried."

Kermit shook his head. "And have Marilyn hovering, or Simms wanting to help out of pity? No thanks. It's bad enough I'm so damned helpless I have to have my pants zipped up for me. Marilyn would be trying to wipe my.....ah, nose for me too."

"They care about you."

"And I care about them. Enough not to inflict my bad humor on them."

Peter sipped his coffee and gathered his Shaolin senses. Then he asked meaningfully, "Is there another reason you chose to come back here?"

Kermit looked out to where Snow was joking with her old friend. "Maybe."

"You seem to have gotten pretty chummy awfully fast."

"We bonded over the bedpan."

"You were hurt. She rescued you. Could be a gratitude/pity thing you know. And technically, you are on the rebound, my friend."

Peter tread lightly, having experienced his friend's ire last time he'd suggested a lady might not be playing him fair. What Peter had suggested that time turned out to be the truth, but that hadn't made the message go down any easier. And from the look Kermit shot him, it wasn't going down well here either. "I'm not sure you should be the one to be giving me relationship advice, Kid."

Peter nodded, "True. But I'm not giving you any advice here. I'm just asking if you know what you are doing."

"Then the answer to that is yes, I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Great. Care to explain it to me?"

Kermit's answer was brief and to the point. "No."

Peter decided it was time to change the subject before his friend's scowl turned into physical anger. "So tell me what happened with Garrison."

He could almost feel the heat from his friend's rage. "Like you said, the bastard had friends. I thought 6 guys and one rifle were good odds. Turned out they had another rifle and luck on their side. That changed the odds. Garrison with his usual sense of humor decided not to kill me outright and hauled me almost all the way out here and dumped me. I never really understood the phrase 'freezing my ass off' until now." Kermit took a long drink from his coffee and looked over his glasses to his friend, his dark eyes serious. "Don't tell Marilyn, but that was the closest I ever came to buying it, Peter. I was down and out of resources. The only thing I had left was luck and it was pure luck Snow came along."

"You feel you owe her your life?" asked Peter quietly. "I don't feel it. I do owe her. I'd be a popsicle right now if not for her and Radar, here."

He leaned over to scratch Radar's head who just sighed with contentment at the attention. "What I feel is something entirely different," he added. He picked up his coffee mug and yelled back towards the kitchen, "Hey, waitress, what does a poor invalid have to do to get a warm-up in this joint?"

Snow came out with the coffee pot to refill his and Peter's mugs. "Setting yourself on fire comes to mind," she told him tartly.

"Speaking of fire, don't you have to start a couple woodstoves if you've having guests?" Kermit asked, and added, looking at Peter, "You're staying the night at least, right?"

Peter nodded.

"Oh, drat, you're right. I'd better fire up the Green and Blue rooms so they get warm in time. Thanks for the reminder. You have a color preference, Mr. Caine? I name my guest rooms for the predominant color in the room," Snow explained.

"I've always been fond of blue," he answered, "And just Peter, please."

"Maybe you should let Peter help you," suggested Kermit. "He's good at lighting fires, too."

The both looked at the suddenly innocent tone and Peter decided that he should play this out, whatever was going on. "Sure, I'll be glad to help. What do you want me to do?" he asked Snow, as he stood up.

She led him to kitchen woodbox and, after returning the coffee pot to the warmer, had him take up an armload of wood while she grabbed a stack of smaller kindling. "Keep on chopping," she instructed the trooper who was cutting up carrots. "We're just going to start the heat in the guest rooms. You'll be back in Green. Tom. This way, Peter."

She led him to the room next to hers, and showed him where to drop the wood he carried. The room was charmingly decorated with rustic furniture same as her bedroom had been. The quilt on the bed was a strong geometric with varying shades of blue and there were other touches of blue here and there. "This will be your room," she told him and went over the woodstove instructions with him briefly.

Basically, all he had to do was leave it alone and put more wood on occasionally and call her if the heat gauge went into the red. She'd bank it for the night when he retired. She handed him a match from a container nearby. "I don't suppose you know why Kermit wanted you to help me?" she asked.

He shook his head, "No, unless he wanted you to know about this for whatever reason."

He handed her back the match and stretching out his hands, concentrated. His father could make a great gout of fire leap into being with just a gesture, but Peter still had to concentrate hard to get just the small flare that started in the kindling. Still, he didn't mind showing off occasionally. He could hear Snow suck in her breath at the demonstration and mentally cursed Kermit for whatever he was up to. But he was certain this is what he was supposed to be showing her. Snow picked up the other half of the kindling she hadn't used and asked him to go for another armload of wood while she set up the other room without further comment on his performance. He met her in the next room over, finding her by the open door. "In the box, same as your room," she pointed out. Then, leaning down to the open fire door where she'd stacked the kindling, she said, "This is why Kermit wanted you to help me."

And with a single upraised hand, fire sprang into being. He was stunned. "Oh. Yes. That would explain it. You do a lot of that kind of thing?" he asked.

She shook her head no. "I can do this, turn electrical appliances on and off, sometimes feel what people are feeling, a few other little things. But I don't do any of it that often. Takes too much effort. And nobody other than Kermit knows about it so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything. He mentioned he had friends who could do the fire trick. I didn't realize he meant you."

"My father is even better at it. Kermit has seen...things that others would not accept easily. Have you always been able to do that?"

"No. Someone taught me. It was a great surprise to me that I could learn to do it at all."

"Yeah, I know that feeling, too."

Suddenly he was caught up in a flashback to his childhood at the temple. He could almost hear his father saying, "Nothing that happens is by chance."

He looked at Snow with new regard.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Five card stud, dollar ante. Snow, you want in on this?" Thompson asked as he shuffled the deck.

The guys sat at the table that had been cleared of dinner things and Snow ranged about the kitchen, setting the room to rights and setting out dessert for later. "You know me better than that, Tommy. I'm not a card player and especially not poker."

He laughed, "I remember you playing once."

"I was drunk. And I lost my shirt quite literally."

"What did you expect when we said Strip Poker?"

She looked at him, hands on hips, disgusted, "I expected you to be a gentleman and not take advantage of my beginner status. I'm nobody's pigeon anymore--I've accepted that I can't play cards worth a darn so I don't waste my time or yours. You guys enjoy, I have to get the team settled for the night."

She went to the entry for her gear, and as she passed him, leaned over to Peter whispering loudly for effect, "If it gets ugly, the shotgun over the front door is loaded for bear. But do me a favor and just shoot Kermit. I don't think I could survive having to take care of both of them at the same time. Come, on Radar."

Considering the way the two had been taking verbal shots at each other, it wasn't a bad idea Peter thought. He'd deliberately sat between the two for the card game to avoid the kind of subtle antagonistic behavior that had gone on during dinner. It didn't help much. Peter and Kermit were experienced players, but Thompson was good. He managed to clean them out in just over an hour. "Read 'em and weep," he chuckled as he dragged in the last big pot.

Kermit shoved his chair back and got up to take his coffee cup out to the kitchen. "Take it and buy yourself a personality," he suggested.

"Yeah, I figured you big city boys for poor losers along with being poor players," Thompson jibed.

Kermit turned back to the trooper and from the set of his jaw Peter figured he'd about reached his limit of tolerance. "The only loser I see here is the one who's going back to town tomorrow. And I'm staying out here," he said quietly so Snow wouldn't hear him, smugly and with a great deal of implication. "Take as many cheap shots at me as you want, Dudley Do-Right. It won't change a thing."

The trooper came out of his seat with a snarl that drew Snow's attention immediately. She said loudly from her seat by the fire where she sat with the laptop computer, "Do I have to call the cops on you boys? Brawling in my dining room is no way to repay my hospitality, Tommy."

Glancing over at Snow, Thompson picked up his money and announced, "Well, as fun as that was, I think it's time to turn in. Goodnight."

He left the table to talk privately with Snow for a minute and then disappeared down the hall. Peter straightened up the cards as Kermit ferried cups and dessert plates out to the kitchen. Snow came in and started to fill the sink for the dishes. "Let me take over here. Why don't you get started for bed," she said to Kermit, "Unless you and Peter want to sit by the fire for a while?"

Kermit looked to Peter and answered, "No, I think I'm ready for bed. He'll just want to give me one of those lectures on manners I so richly deserve."

"Hey, I seem to remember being on the receiving end of the last lecture between us. Something about police harassment and Jack Wong, I believe?"

"I'll be in to bank the fire for you in a few minutes, Peter," Snow said as she piled dishes in the soapy water. "You need a hand with anything?" she looked to Kermit.

"Yeah, undo this unholy button and zipper rig for me."

Peter stepped towards him to help, "I can do that for you."

Kermit shook his head, stopping him, "No way. No offense, but I don't let guys anywhere near my zipper, no matter what the reason."

Peter stepped back, hands in the air while Snow casually took care of matters and turned back to her work. "No offense taken, but you know I'm willing to help any way I can."

"This is what I'm paying for, pal. Let me enjoy the good stuff."

Peter followed through the living room and stopped him with a touch on the arm. "Kermit? What are you doing here?" he asked gesturing towards the bedroom.

"Sleeping."

"Sleeping? Just sleeping?"

"Yeah, sleeping. Is that so hard to believe? Look, Kid, when you get to be my age, you'll figure out that when you feel like hell, sometimes it's just nice to have a warm body close by. Of course I'd rather you didn't tell Tommy Boy that. I want him to believe the worst. Goodnight."

Peter turned to his room and wondered again if his friend really did know what he was doing.

~~~***~~~

It was still full dark when Peter woke the next morning and got up to visit the facilities across the hall. Intending to meditate a while before breakfast, he headed back to his room, when he heard the music drifting gently from behind a closed door at the end of the hall. Curious, he quietly opened it to find Snow gracefully extended in a classic Tai Chi pose in the middle of the room. The room was large and held half a dozen beds or more built into the walls in neat little alcoves. He figured it must be the previously mentioned dorms since the room was quite chilly. A small table on the far wall held the CD player that provided the music along with some decorative items, the ever present candles and a kerosene lamp for light. Dressed in a tee shirt and sweatpants, Snow worked out barefooted on a large rug in the center of the room. She didn't seem to notice him as she fluidly worked through forms he recognized. "You do that well," he commented when she finally stopped and saw him.

"Thank you. Learned it a long time ago and have just found it to be the most relaxing but energizing exercise for my tastes. I've practiced it off and on for years."

"Some of those moves are typically Shaolin," he informed her. "Mind telling me who taught you?"

She grabbed up a towel to rub her neck dry and took a swig from a water bottle before answering him. "He was a Kung Fu Master, I believe. I grew up in communes and group homes all over Alaska and the western US. We traveled a lot for a few years while my mother was setting up her midwife clinics, so memories from that time are a bit fuzzy for me. He stayed with us at one of the communes in Washington, I think. Taught me the exercises and a few defense moves but we agreed I wasn't interested in being a warrior. I was pretty young. As I remember, his name was Kahn."

Peter smiled at the memories. "He was a good teacher."

"You knew him? Tall, long legs, bald and a nose with, um, presence. And bitchin' marks on his arms."

"I know him," Peter answered and then he deliberately pushed his sleeves up to bare the Shaolin brands.

Snow dropped the towel and water bottle on a nearby bed and came to look closer at the symbols of his status, her hand hovering over them without touching. He told her, "These are the marks of a Shaolin priest. My father wears them, and my grandfather before him. And so does Master Kahn who taught me when I was young at a temple in California."

She tore her gaze away from the brands to look deeply into his eyes. "There was another who wore these marks. He was there at the commune in Ojai after my first year of college. I went there for the summer and mom and I studied herb craft from him. Old Ping. He's the one who taught me the fire trick. He told me he knew Master Kahn too."

Peter almost laughed as he pulled the sleeves back into place. "Ping Hai. At least that was his name at the temple. He calls himself Lo Si now but most people in Chinatown just call him The Ancient. He's quite a character. And a meddler."

"A Shaolin trait?" she asked, not at all innocently.

He checked in his natural instinct to rise to the bait. "I want what's best for Kermit. He's had a rough year. He's had a couple of relationships go sour recently."

"Big surprise. We are not at cross purposes here. I'm just trying to give him the best care I can."

"And sleeping with you is part of that care?"

She was insulted by what he implied and it showed on her face. "Do you have sex with everyone you sleep with, Mr. Caine? Are you even aware it's possible to just share a bed and warmth and comfort without it becoming sexual?"

"Then why is he there?"

"Not that it's still any of your business, but Kermit is sometimes like the proverbial 1,000 pound gorilla who sleeps anywhere he wants to. And if it doesn't bother me, I don't know why you should care."

"Because I think he's sleeping with you because he has feelings for you and I don't want to see him get hurt."

Snow angrily whirled to snatch up her towel and water bottle. "I'm not out to hurt anyone, Mr. Caine and especially not Kermit. And I'm not comfortable discussing things with you that I haven't even talked about with him."

Still staring at his face, she deliberately gestured with one hand towards the small stereo system across the room and it snapped off by itself. Then she defiantly strode out of the room.

"Dang," he muttered to himself as he looked to the now silent player, "Can everyone do that trick but me?"


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Snow stood ankle deep in the snow on the trail as she watched Tommy roar off into the woods and mentally berated herself for being so weak-willed as to permit the thoroughly irritating Peter Caine to stay behind at the lodge. She didn't like Caine's smug, self-assured attitude that he knew what was best for Kermit; as if Kermit was some simple-minded idiot who couldn't make decisions for himself. It rankled that she felt Peter didn't like her and didn't trust her with his friend's welfare. But it was Kermit who had suggested that Peter stay a while longer and if that was what he wanted, then that's what he got. So she'd just have to find ways to dodge any more disagreements with Know-It-All-Caine even if that meant just avoiding him as much as possible in her own home.

Peter had offered to pay, producing a Gold card and she'd agreed to give him off-season rates for a package that included meals. She would have let him stay for free for Kermit's sake but didn't tell him that.

Not wanting to return inside just yet, she decided to check the team and went back to her dog yard. Still excited from the Trooper's noisy departure, the dogs howled and bounced on their lines, leaping to the tops of their doghouses to be petted and stroked, each in turn. The sun had barely been up over the ridge when Tommy had given her a curt goodbye. No doubt he was annoyed by the sleeping arrangements. Well, she'd never given him any reason to think they were anything other than friends. She put her face down to hug the husky she was holding. It was too bad you couldn't keep men like you did dogs, she chuckled to herself.

She could have slept elsewhere, except she knew that if Kermit had one of his fierce nightmares while Tom was there it would have been a disaster. Tom would have lorded it over him to the point of fisticuffs, so she slept by his side in hopes of keeping him sleeping soundly through the night. The fact that she enjoyed it immensely had nothing to do with it. He didn't snore much and other than his nightmares, she didn't generally pick up on his bad humor even when he was grumpy the way so many other people, including Tom, affected her.

She stopped in the middle of the dog yard and turned towards the lodge to stare at the window as the realization swept over her like a tidal wave. The dog she'd been petting nipped and pulled at her mittens for attention but she stood frozen in place with a new understanding that truly shocked her.

She could see Kermit and Peter were still at the dining table lingering over their coffee. Most of the time, she could barely "feel" anything from either of them. Other than his strong attitude about Kermit, Peter's feelings were, in general, a mystery to her. They'd rise up barely long enough for her to realize he was broadcasting and then, in a way that must be part of his training, they'd swiftly be repressed to where she could no longer pick them up.

And Kermit, all she ever picked up from him was rage when he was truly angry or the emotional bedlam when he was caught up in a nightmare. They both held their emotions strongly in check and what attracted her in the one, irritated her in the other.

It was strange and puzzling and it bothered her a great deal. But it explained why she'd felt compelled to take Kermit back to care for him. He "felt" comfortable.

Peter opened the back door and stepped out onto the deck. "Hey, Kermit says you have ice fishing up here. Would it be possible for you to arrange some for me?" he called.

"Great idea," she answered, shaking herself out of her reverie, "We'll all go. Kermit could use some fresh air and the team needs the exercise. If you'll get him ready, I can take care of getting the dogs and fishing gear together. He knows what outdoor gear he needs and he can tell you what you'll need too."

Peter nodded and hurried back indoors out of the cold while she turned to the shed to bring out harnesses and her sled.

She'd ended up packing extra gear in a small sled to drag behind the big dog sled. Kermit would be riding "in the basket" as it was called so she put their fishing gear, folding camp chairs, and the ice auger along with a thermos of hot coffee in the drag sled. It wasn't far to the lake where she fished so she had Peter ride the back of the sled with her, showing him how to hold on and stand on the rails, or jump off and run when he wanted to warm up a little.

They'd had a surprisingly good time, probably because Peter hadn't questioned any of her care of her charges and he really seemed to like fishing. They caught enough for at least two meals before she packed them up to go home. Peter was excited by the sight of the huge bull moose she pointed out to him and at the wolf tracks she spotted crossing the trail on the way back. The rest of the day was quiet enough, with Peter staying out her way by meditating while Kermit took his nap.

~~~***~~~

That evening, Peter was just dropping off to sleep, when he heard some noise coming from the next room and then in the hallway. Opening the door, he found Snow standing at a well stocked closet of medical supplies, clipboard in hand, picking up a blood pressure cuff. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"One of Kermit's nightmares. This was a bad one and he wrenched his shoulder waking up from it. I'm getting him a pain killer but you could go and sit with him for a minute if you don't mind."

He went to the room, finding it bathed in soft light from a kerosene lamp. Kermit lay with his good arm over his eyes and Peter noticed the green glasses sitting on the nightstand next to him. "Want your glasses?" he asked quietly.

Kermit peeked out from under his arm. "Peter? No. It's okay. Sorry to wake you. Go back to bed."

Peter could see his friend was bathed in sweat and his chest heaved with the effort of breathing. He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached to take his hand. "I wasn't sleeping yet. You get nightmares often?"

"Often enough. Hazards of the mercenary business."

"I don't remember Paul having them."

"Paul had Annie and you and the girls to keep him sane."

Snow came back in and they sat quietly while she took a blood pressure reading and pulse to note on her chart. "Okay, here comes the happy juice," she said as she swabbed Kermit's arm and stuck in the needle. "Don't fight it this time," she ordered Kermit and then to Peter, "Care for some chamomile tea? I'm making a cup for myself. Mr. Picky here won't take any."

"It tastes like wet straw."

"Sure," Peter accepted, "I could use a cup."

She got up to go and said, "Maybe you could stay with him. It will take a few minutes for the shot to take effect. And you," she said to her patient, "why don't you tell him."

"Tell me what?" Peter asked gently as she left.

Kermit sighed and said, "Hand me my glasses."

Peter shook his head negatively. "You don't need them right now. It's only me. Just talk."

So he did. He told Peter the nightmare and the reality and he didn't edit as he'd done for Snow. It was beyond horrible. It ended simply with, "Sometimes I wonder how it would have been if Paul had been there to stop me."

Peter was almost too stunned to talk. Never in his imagination could he have ever guessed what could give this man nightmares. "I'm not surprised you have nightmares. I'm not sure I'm not going to have any from just hearing that. But it doesn't sound like you had that many choices." "It doesn't excuse my actions."

"No," Peter agreed. "But you were young and while not excusable, it's still understandable. I don't know what I would have done in your place. That took courage to face that and act. And even more courage to live with it afterwards."

Snow had come in quietly and handed Peter his cup of tea. Then she climbed into the bed next to Kermit and offered him her cup. "I put some honey in mine. It's not that bad if you'd give it a chance."

He took a sip, grimaced and gently pushed it away, "Great. Sweet wet straw. Very tasty."

She took a drink from it and set it on her nightstand. "Well, I could sing you a lullaby but I sing worse than I play poker. I'm afraid it wouldn't help you sleep."

Snow rested her head on her hand as she leaned next to Kermit, snuggled next to him and occasionally reaching out to touch his shoulder or to brush a stray curl from his forehead. Peter still held his left hand and, at the foot of the bed, Radar curled up at his feet. It was almost a kind of touch therapy that all three did naturally to reassure their friend that they were there for him.

"Tell me a boring story," Kermit suggested, "like how you got that name."

"Oh, yeah, now that's boring but short," Snow answered, "My parents were the original hippies. My Dad wanted me to have an Alaskan name so I'd always know where I came from. My best friend when I was a kid was named California Redwood; Callie for short, so I guess it could have been worse. Heck, they could have named me after one of those muppets that were so popular at the time."

"Ragingly funny," Kermit yawned at her teasing, "mine is a family name. Henson named the frog after me. I told him I didn't think it was amusing."

"Um, yet another story of how Kermit got his name. I think I must have heard at least five different versions now. Are you ever going to tell me the truth about that?" Peter asked.

"Truth is relative," he answered, eyes closed.

"That sounds like something my father would say. Perhaps I'll go meditate on it, since you look like you're ready to sleep. Goodnight," Peter responded, as he stood up.

He nodded to Snow as she extinguished the kerosene lamp and Kermit mumbled goodnight.

Back in bed again, he found he was unable to sleep just yet so he went through a relaxation exercise and into deep meditation. He cleared his mind and let thoughts bubble up from deep inside him as they willed, examining each and then releasing them to float away while he cleared himself for the next. One by one, things that were bothering him came up to be dealt with. Some, like his father's absence were on-going, daily cares that could only be recognized and accepted. Others were considered and released for good. When he came to the thoughts about Snow, he found while he still did not completely trust her, he was more comfortable with her. Her care for his friend this evening had been exactly what Kermit needed at the time. And whether or not she admitted it, it was obvious through her actions that she had feelings for Kermit.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Peter still wasn't clear what a relay call was but Snow had reassured him that it would be almost like a phone call over the radio set, so he convinced Kermit it would a good thing to try. The first call was set up to go to Marilyn and when she realized it was her big brother, she almost broke into tears, "I'm not sure if I should be grateful you're still alive or shoot you myself for not keeping in touch with me," she chastised him.

"Okay, save the lecture. We don't have that much time and besides, this kind of call is more public than a cell phone. We're going out over the airwaves here. I'll be back in a couple weeks and be healed enough that you can take a swing at me then, all right? I did what was best for all of us and you know it."

They spoke briefly back and forth about family matters and then Kermit put Peter on the microphone to reassure her that everything was fine. Then they signed off and waited for the connection to go through to the 101st. Simms, was as usual, not there, off in some meeting, so they talked briefly with just about everyone else. Snow got out her digital camera and took a picture, then asked for the fax number of the station. Within minutes, she was able to fax a photo over her computer of the two men as they sat by the radio, talking into the microphone. Mary Margaret got on the line to ask about the baseball-type shirt Kermit was wearing and was delighted to find out that the word she couldn't quite see was "Grumpy" with a small embroidered Disney dwarf on it. She promised she'd post the fax by the coffee pot for all to see.

"Just remember, paybacks are hell, Mary Margaret," Kermit assured her.

It was after lunch when Snow suggested that Kermit might benefit from a bath so she filled the tub in the bathroom off of her bedroom. Peter helped him get unbuckled from the shoulder brace he was wearing and got him settled into the hot, steamy water after Snow taped over the shoulder bandages with plastic and waterproof tape. Then he sat down on the toilet lid to talk while she shampooed her patient's hair and started shaving him. "She'd make a good geisha, don't you think?" Kermit grinned.

"You know, you have a tendency to smart off at all the wrong times, like right now when I have a sharp razor in my hands. I'm going to be rinsing it off in the bath water, so if I were you, I'd keep that washcloth over anything you don't want shaved by accident," Snow mock threatened with a gesture.

When she finished, she left saying she'd heat up the towels before she brought them. "I'll tell you, Kid," Kermit commented, "if I had a scotch and a good cigar, I'd think I'd died and gone to heaven."

Peter laughed, "Somehow she doesn't strike me as the kind to tolerate cigars in her house."

"Probably not," he sighed. "And I saw she was giving my scotch to that poker-cheating bastard Thompson, too."

"You know, I'm a little curious. Did you find Snow all that interesting before you met Thompson or after you realized he was interested in her?"

The green glasses were in place so Peter couldn't see his eyes, but the raised eyebrows spoke volumes. He was hefting a large water-soaked natural sponge as if it were a hand grenade. "I'm not sure where you're going with this, Peter, but I definitely think it's far enough."

"Uncomfortable question?"

"Let's say stupid question. I know you think I'm either soft in the head for someone who helped me when I was about as low as I could get or in the middle of a pissing match with an Alpha male over pack position, but you are wrong on both counts."

"You barely know this woman," Peter pointed out.

"Like you'd known Jordan for very long the first time you jumped in the sack with her?" asked Kermit. "All we do is sleep."

"Jordan was beautiful, had a great figure and was the kind of total babe any man would have wanted."

"So you're saying that Snow isn't attractive enough for me? That's pretty shallow..."

Peter interrupted quickly, "That's not what I meant."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly Tom Cruise. Women don't generally look at me when your pretty face is in the room."

Peter shook his head negatively, "I know looks don't count in the long run but you can't blame me for being attracted to Jordan in the first place. That's why we ended up in bed so soon. But Jordan was more than looks. She had smarts, ambition, goals and the drive to get herself there. She's going to go far in the department. How could I help but admire that?"

"Humm. Sounds like a young hot-shot cop I used to know. And yet with all those wonderful qualities, you and Jordan are not together anymore. Could it possibly be that you had too much in common with her?"

"Now look who's asking stupid questions."

"Jordan is a great cop and you're probably right about her going far," Kermit agreed, "In spite of being sweet and vulnerable looking and occasionally acting like a rookie, she's good enough that she didn't need you to protect her all the time. The way you tried to protect every single woman you went out with after Rebecca."

It hit home to Peter like a flaming hot arrow right through the chest. Rebecca. The one woman he couldn't protect. She'd died because of him and he thought he'd worked through all the guilt but he hadn't.

"That was low, Kermit," he accused.

"That was honest and you know it. With Jordan, you picked a babe who you thought needed you. She turned out to be one who doesn't need you, has career ambitions and can't be the kind of wife you want. But you ignore Jody who'd give up her career in a heartbeat to be Mrs. Peter Caine. Now there's a woman who'd follow you barefoot and pregnant through the Himalayas if you wanted to wander like your father. Tell me who's making bad choices with women here."

Peter was on his feet pacing, something he hadn't done in a long time. "I don't know how this conversation got turned around to my love life."

Kermit shrugged and then winced. "Ouch, guess I shouldn't have done that," he commented as he rubbed his shoulder. "Well, if you want to give advice about women, Kid, be prepared to have your own love life examined. You know I'm not exactly a rookie at this. I have been married two and a half times."

Peter gave him an incredulous look. "Half married?"

"Long story. Remind me to tell you some time. Look, anything can happen in the week and a half I have left here. Snow may kiss me off and never think of me again. Would you leave all this," Kermit said as he gestured around the sumptuously rustic bathroom, "for me?"

Peter smiled, "Well, to tell you the truth Kermit, you aren't my type. We have religious differences."

He cocked his head asking, "But am I pretty enough for you?"

Peter said, "Oh yeah!" and blew him a big kiss.

That did it. Peter had to duck quickly as the sponge flew past him. Loyal Radar who'd been banished to the doorway, decided to play retriever and leaped up to chase the errant item.

"Here's one babe who loves me at least," Kermit commented as he took the sponge from Radar. "Too bad she and I have religious differences too."

"Maybe she'd be willing to change for you. I'll go check on your towels so you two can have some privacy," he offered, leaving the room.

As he walked into the bedroom and headed towards the door, he noticed a large framed painting on the wall facing him. Stepping closer, he stopped to look at it carefully. It was a pastel-toned oil of a woman holding a baby. She was dressed in a soft, lacy and flowing dress, seated in a meadow of wildflowers and looking at the child with an expression of total adoration. Her hair was a light brown, lit by the sun and her eyes as blue as the sky behind her.

Peter stood looking at the painting, caught up in an emotional whirlwind. The woman reminded him so much of his mother; it almost hurt to look at it. Snow came in and stopped for a minute, holding Kermit's towels, to ask him, "Pretty isn't it? My dad painted it. One of the few that had clothes on--he generally did nudes. I call her "Madonna of the Flowers" but I think "Laurie's Baby" was the original title."

"Laurie?" It jarred Peter right down to the pit of his stomach. "My mother's name was Laura. This reminds me a lot of the pictures I've seen of her."

She looked puzzled and he explained, "She died when I was only two. All my memories of her face are indistinct. I remember her voice and her scent better. But I've seen a few pictures and I have a locket of hers."

"The lady in the picture was one of my mother's patients. Stopped in at the commune we were living in at the time. I think the baby started coming suddenly and they didn't have time to find a hospital if I remember correctly. They were traveling and didn't stay long. Dad painted it from memory."

"They? Was her husband with her?" he asked, trying to remember to breathe at the same time.

"Yes, but I don't remember him too well. Kind of a hippy couple like everyone else at that time. I might have some photos from that time period. I'll try to dig them out later. Got to get Kermit out of that tub before he melts."

Snow turned to the bathroom, but Peter hesitated a minute by the portrait and, reaching up a hand to touch it, asked quietly, "Mother, is that you?"

Finding no answer, he went to help his friend.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Peter and Kermit were lounging in their favorite places by the fire, about to break open a fresh deck of cards when Snow came from her room blowing the dust from a fabric box. It was about the size of a jewelry box and covered with a blue silk brocade of dragons and flowers. She put it down on the coffee table and knelt on the floor between their chairs to open it. It was full of old pictures, mostly black and whites with some in aged color. A few trinkets, pieces of paper and a couple boxes were stacked to one side. Snow riffled through the pictures, searching and finally she brought out one old deckle-edged photo to hand to Peter. "Master Kahn," she identified it.

It was him. Younger and standing with a very juvenile Snow, but it was him. Before the Temple, Peter was certain. He handed the photo to Kermit. "You were a cute little dickens, weren't you? Look at all that blonde hair." he said to Snow who informed him she was blonde until she hit her teens.

"That's Kahn, all right though, isn't it?" he asked Peter.

Peter nodded and watched as Snow pulled another from the stack. She looked carefully at it and then handed it to him. It was a group photo in what looked almost to be a tent. Snow was there, a little older than the other picture, perhaps 12 or so. A woman who could only be her mother stooped behind her, hands on her shoulders and beaming with pride as she cuddled cheek to cheek. On some kind of pallet or low bed sat Laura Caine with Kwai Chang Caine kneeling beside her. Peter's heart raced for his throat and began to beat like a drum. In her arms she held a newborn baby; a baby that could only be him. He felt the tears gathering in his eyes and instinctively, in a way all his own, he reached out to stroke the photo as if he could reach across the years to touch that woman whose face he knew not by memory but by intuition.

"Is that them?" asked Snow and he nodded.

She smiled, "Well, then Peter Caine, I probably changed your first diaper. I had the job of teaching new fathers how to diaper properly."

Kermit had a grin on his face broad enough to be almost annoying when Peter handed him the photo, hardly able to give it up. "Your father ever tell you about this?"

Peter shook his head. "I always figured I was born in a hospital like everyone else."

"I wasn't," Snow said.

"Me neither," Kermit offered, handing him back the picture.

"Okay, like everyone else who is normal then. It never occurred to me to ask," he declared, hand jerking in a visual underscore.

Snow looked to Kermit. "You're right," she told him, "If you tied his hands down, he'd never be able to speak a word." She looked back to Peter to say, "I'm sorry that's the only one I have. I can write my mother and ask if she has any others. I'll let you know if she does. But you can keep that one if you want."

"Thank you. I can get you a copy made," Peter offered. "I have plenty of pictures of my parents. Don't bother, but I appreciate the thought."

Kermit reached to pull out a handful of photos from the box and began to question Snow about the people and places. Peter stared at the photo, memorizing their expressions, their clothes, even the cut of his father's hair. By the time he'd finished, Snow and Kermit were almost to the bottom of the box. "Grateful Dead. Why am I not surprised?" Kermit remarked looking at a ticket stub.

Peter's Shaolin senses began to tingle. He was drawn to a small, round, red brocade case still bright and clean after all the time in the box. "What's this?" he asked, picking it up.

Snow frowned. "A necklace. Old Ping gave it to me. Said something about it being my destiny and said it so creepy, I was always too scared to wear it. Didn't know I still had it."

It smelled of magic and power and Peter thought about a meddling old man who did uncanny things for fathomless reasons. He opened it carefully. Inside lay a jade necklace of great beauty and even greater age. A yin and yang symbol, it was carved of two colors. One of rare dark green jade, so deeply colored it was almost black; the other, technically nephrite jade of purest snow white. Each side was carved into a fantastically twisted creature. When he picked it up, it fell into two pieces and he realized it was actually two necklaces, interlocked. He held up the black, the better to observe the detail on the carving. It was gorgeous. Kermit reached to take up the white. "I've always wondered what those were," Snow commented.

"I know," Kermit was smiling again. "I know a griffin when I see one."

Snow looked uncomfortable. She took the case and retrieved the necklaces, coiling the silken cords back under them as she settled both pieces back into place. "Well, it still feels spooky and I'm still not wearing either of them. Now enough of this nostalgia because I need to get some work done around here if we want to eat tonight."

She shoved the case back into the box followed by the contents that had been spread around and then slammed the top down. After taking it back to her room, she announced that the team needed to be watered and that she was going out. Then she disappeared into the Arctic entry way to dress for outside.

The smile was still playing around Kermit's lips as he looked at Peter. "Destiny," was all he said and Peter took time to mildly curse an interfering old man.

~~~***~~~

Snow couldn't decide if she was sad or relieved to see Peter go. She watched him on her deck, helping Kermit down the steep stairway. She didn't dislike him quite as much anymore. Perhaps finding that she'd seen his birth had made him more human. Or most likely, his apparent acceptance of her style of care for Kermit had made her feel more at ease. She knew Kermit would miss the endless poker games and tuning in the satellite dish for male bonding rituals of hockey and basketball games on the computer.

Her team was bouncing up and down, howling to go as she adjusted Peter's bag on the sled. It was a beautiful day, just right for a long run and she was almost as eager as her team to be on their way. The sun was shining and it had warmed up to almost 10 above. If it had been much colder, she'd have taken him back to Nenana to pick up his rental car at the Trooper HQ on one of her snowmobiles. But since it was so nice, they'd opted to take the dogs out. She was a bit concerned with keeping Kermit warm enough, but they would be stopping halfway at Nora and Evan's place to warm up. Besides, Evan's trail back to Nenana wasn't as long as hers, a roundabout way that ended up on the highway; the trail where Radar had found the half-frozen detective.

In fact, she hadn't used that particular trail very often, generally taking it only to work out the team and why she'd opted to take it that particular day was a mystery. She thought back to the day Old Ping had handed her the red box containing the necklaces. It was almost as if she could hear his voice whispering, "Destiny."

"Great," she mumbled to herself as she adjusted a harness, "Now I'm getting flashbacks without ever having tried LSD."

She got Kermit settled into the basket and Peter took his position on the left sled rail as she pulled in the snow anchor. Looking to Peter, she instructed, "Hold tight and yell out 'Hike' really loud."

"I thought it was 'Mush!'

"Only in the movies. Try it and make it loud enough for Radar to hear you over that big-mouth howler, Hawkeye."

He did and Radar leaped forward, guiding the team down the trail. Peter was surprised to hear the dogs quiet down as they ran. Another movie myth dispelled. The trip was fast over well-traveled, packed snow and they were at Evan's cabin in what seemed too short a time on such a gloriously beautiful day. Kermit had tolerated the trip well, warmly wrapped in blankets, but they were all glad to have a mug-up and some of Nora's excellent cinnamon rolls as they played and talked with the kids in the cozy little homestead. Peter got introduced to one authentic Alaskan ritual -- a visit to the outhouse in subfreezing weather. "I will never take plumbing for granted again," he promised as he returned from his trip.

They didn't linger too long, not wanting to lose the daylight so they got back on the trail and Peter was glad when he finally saw the Trooper HQ come into view. Driving a dog sled was a lot harder than it looked.

They made their goodbyes quickly as Kermit refused to warm up in the office. "I'm not in the mood for Tommy today," he commented, "And besides, I'd like to talk with Peter alone for a minute."

Snow nodded and tying off her team, went in to visit with her friends.

"Thanks for coming out, Kid," Kermit told him, "I'm sure it was no picnic dealing with my sister."

"I enjoyed this in spite of the reason behind it. Haven't had a vacation in a long time. And I never get enough fishing in. This was a treat. Now, remember to take care of yourself so I don't have to face Marilyn again, okay?"

"Deal. I'll see you in about a week," Kermit answered. Then he hesitated, "What will you tell Simms?"

Peter looked off in the distance, drinking in the peace and pristine beauty of the snow covered hills and forests. "The truth," he answered. "You're recovering. From everything."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The team was panting hard by the time they reached the hill overlooking Evan's place. Snow called for a stop to let them rest before negotiating the tricky downhill. The cabin was putting out a thin trail of smoke from the chimney and outside she could see several snowmobiles parked by the stairs. "They must have company," she remarked to Kermit as she tucked in his blanket.

"Do you have some binoculars?" he asked suddenly, staring at the cabin.

"Sure. Side pocket, next to the rifle holster. Why?"

He pulled out the binoculars and, fumbling somewhat, adjusted them, examining the homestead. "Garrison."

"What?" Snow asked, her heart leaping at the name. "It can't be. Tom said they hadn't seen or heard anything about him. They figured he'd left the area."

"That's the snowmobile that brought me out here. I'd bet my life on it. There are 6 other snowmobiles. They must have stolen another one."

"Oh, my God! The kids are in there. Kermit, we have to do something," she gasped as she reached for her rifle.

He stopped her, grabbing her hand. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped at her.

She looked at him as if he were stupid. "You said he was dangerous."

"And he has at least two rifles we know of. If they've stolen a snowmobile, they may have stolen more guns. What do you think is going to happen if we go charging in there with your rifle?"

"Gunfire. And someone gets hurt," she sighed, "Okay, then what do we do?"

"'We' are going to drop me off at the cabin and then you are going to literally high tail it back to the Troopers and send them out here. Send Peter with them if he's still there. And you stay there and wait for me. Don't come back out until it's secure."

"What are you going to do?" she asked fearfully.

"What I know how to do," he answered confidently, "Be a cop. The object is to try to keep everyone safe and make a good, sound arrest. I'll keep Garrison distracted until backup arrives. We'll tell him that you're off to the store for supplies and will be gone for several hours so he won't be expecting any trouble or feel threatened."

"He won't be happy to see you still alive."

Kermit grinned, "Sure he will. He'll take delight in torturing me as much as he can and leave everyone else alone. I'm tough and I can take it," he continued as he saw the concern that flashed over her face. "I know what I'm doing. I trusted you, Snow. Now it's your turn to trust me."

She nodded and he settled back as she started up the team again.

When they parked in front of the cabin, Evan came out to talk to them. "Hi guys," he said cheerfully. "Hey, can't give you a mug-up this time. You should probably just keep going so you won't lose the light...."

Kermit cut him off. "We know what's going on. Snow, get," he ordered and stepped away from the team as she turned it to go. "You're telling Garrison that you forgot you were supposed to babysit me while Snow goes to the store for supplies. We'll tell them she won't be back for hours. She's going to the troopers."

Evan looked very relieved as he waved to Snow's retreating figure. "They're going to be mad I didn't get rid of you."

Kermit shook his head negatively as they turned to go into the cabin. "No they won't. Garrison will be very happy to get his hands on me again. He likes rejecting authority. How many guns do they have?"

"Three including mine."

"You have any others?"

"Yes. My oldest son's hunting rifle is hidden in his closet, but it's not loaded."

"Well, then just watch me and follow as best you can. We'll play this by ear. Tell Nora we need to stall for time as much as possible."

They shrugged out of their parkas in the Arctic entryway and hung them with the family gear. As they walked into the main part of the house, Kermit was met with a rifle stock to the midriff that knocked the air out of him and brought him to his knees. It made it easier to act surprised. He could vaguely hear the crying of two of the smaller children in the background but all he could see was a wall of legs from his vantage so close to the floor. "Garrison," he finally croaked out, gasping for breath, "you and your boyfriends still hanging around here? I figured you'd be smart enough to be long gone. Guess I'm over-estimated your brains this time."

Garrison handed the rifle he'd used to down the detective to one of his gang and then, with both hands and all his strength, hauled Kermit up by his bad arm. The pain was exquisite and the detective nearly bit through his tongue holding back an exclamation. "Why are you still alive, cop?" Garrison growled, shoving him into a chair.

Kermit grinned at him, hoping to irritate the man as he cradled the throbbing arm and shoulder. "Pure, dumb luck I guess," he managed to gasp.

"Well, mister, you just ran out of luck. What are you doing here?"

Kermit pretended to cough a little as if he still didn't have his breath back completely. Anything to delay and distract. He nodded towards where Evan stood by Nora and the kids; the group of them huddled together, holding on to one another. "They're supposed to be babysitting me," he explained. "Ms. Murdoch had to go get more supplies in town. She won't be back till dark."

"Perfect," one of the men exclaimed, "We can just wait till she brings us everything we need and then take it all back to the hideout."

Their leader just grunted, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at Kermit who guessed that the boys would be going back to the hideout alone. Undoubtedly, the criminal knew he'd overstayed his welcome and was getting ready to run again when he got the supplies.

Garrison looked over at Evan and snarled, "Get that woman out in the kitchen and have her make us some food while we wait." Kermit smiled encouragingly at Nora who untangled herself from the little ones, to stand up and go to the back of the cabin where her wood stove was placed. "Come along and help me, Sierra," she requested. The young girl passed over the baby to her father to go and help her mother. "Thompson, go watch them," ordered Garrison.

Kermit's head jerked up at the name. The young man who stood up and took one of the rifles was the one who'd stopped to zip Kermit's jacket for him. And it was clearly written on his face to whom he was related. He avoided looking Kermit in the eye, hanging his head as he went to stand by the kitchen to watch the women.

"So that was the leak," Kermit commented and Garrison laughed.

"Yep. Davey is a real valuable member of my team. His big brother, the Trooper, is as clueless as they come. But he's going to find out soon enough what kind of stuff his little brother is made of."

Davey. David. Figured Thompson would have a little brother named David, Kermit thought. Damn. He could almost feel for the Trooper, knowing exactly how it was to have a younger brother who found trouble as easy as dogs find garbage. The kid was no killer and looked like he was having second thoughts about the company he was keeping. He probably wouldn't use that rifle.

But the other two rifles were still trained on him and with Evan holding the baby, he'd be no help. There was nothing to do just yet, so he sat quietly, watching Garrison pace. He took a guess at how long it would take for the cavalry to arrive and decided that it would be at least an hour and half. A long time where anything could happen.

Nora was doing her best to delay, stopping to cry and fuss anytime one of the men spoke to her, trying to hurry her along. If the criminals had any sense they would have realized that a woman who was raising six kids in cabin with no electricity or running water was no shrinking violet who fell apart at the least provocation.

She finally set out a spicy smelling soup for starters and five of the men set on the meal as if they were starving, which apparently they were from what he'd overheard. They had run out of supplies and their first burglary hadn't brought them much. So they had ventured further, desperate for food.

Garrison took one of the rifles, refusing the soup he'd termed bellywash and demanded a sandwich. He came to stand where he could taunt Kermit without getting too close. "I think we'll take you back to the hideout with us and make sure no one finds you this time. There's a bear's den out that way. You know, sometimes in winter, bears wake up from hibernation. Especially when there's an easy meal within reach."

Kermit merely answered, "Fine with me. It probably smells better than you. Take a hint and steal some soap."

Garrison didn't take the bait, laughing, "Real men don't need soap, pansy."

Sierra cautiously brought out a sandwich on a plate to him and, still watching Kermit for any movement, he seized the food and greedily took a large bite., which he promptly spit out and then threw the rest of the sandwich on the floor. He grabbed the girl by her hair and roared at her, "What did you put in my food?"

Kermit came out of the chair, but Garrison swung the business end of the rifle at him. "Sit," he commanded, "Charlie, get over here and watch him."

He shoved the rifle into the hands of one of his gang who came to stand over by Kermit, aiming the barrel at his head. Another man got up from the table, holding a rifle to take up a position by Evan and the kids. Evan had handed off the baby finally to his oldest son and was standing between his kids and the gun that threatened them. Garrison gave his attention back to the girl who stood shaking with fear and sobbing quietly. He put his face close to hers and said, "You see that gun pointed at your momma, girl? Now you tell me what you put in that."

She could hardly talk. "Creee---creosote. Creosote oil. Makes you sick. Gives you the cramps and runs. It's in the soup too," she sobbed.

Spoons clattered on the table as the men there stopped eating. Garrison laughed. "I thought it tasted funny. You got guts girl, but you gotta be punished and so does your momma. And I know just the right way, baby."

He pulled her up close and ran a hand over her, fondling her in way that left no illusions.

Kermit had seen Peter do the kick many times but had never practiced it himself. His left hand would never have the amount of power it needed so it was up to the kick. He came up out of the chair like a tidal wave, kicking the rifle barrel up first and then smashing his foot into the man's face. The criminal folded like paper. He whirled to see Evan struggling with his man, holding on to the barrel of the gun and keeping it aimed at the roof. Nora was standing over the fallen figure of poor Davey Thompson, iron skillet in hand. That left Garrison for him and Kermit went after him, good shoulder first to crash into the man, knocking the girl loose from his grip.

Keeping Garrison off balance was foremost in his mind but Garrison was ready for him, swinging hard with clenched hands to strike at his weakest point, the arm in the sling.

Having never been kicked by a mule, he couldn't be certain he was hit that hard, but it was close enough. The shoulder had been throbbing already from the first wrench and this sent fire burning through him. He went down, ducking another swing. Then Garrison turned to reach the rifle that lay on the floor along side the man Kermit had taken down. Before Kermit could launch himself at the man's back, sweet little Sierra who had crawled to safety to hide under a table, reached out bravely with one foot to trip the hated man.

It was purely by accident that Garrison tripped into a lit kerosene lamp.

It shattered in his face, sending oil and flame all over him as well as over the table, wall, and floor. Garrison screamed like a banshee as he pawed at the burning pain in his eyes. Staggering blindly, he groped to find the door and raced out of the house, now on flame from head to toe.

The fire caught the dry log walls and roared into an inferno in seconds. Kermit grabbed Sierra and shoved her towards the door. "Get out. Now!" he ordered and turned to direct the others out.

Nora, rifle in hand, was already shepherding her brood towards him as Even held the gun on the rest of the gang. "Have them pick up these guys on the floor and get them out," Kermit yelled as he picked up the other gun and guided the kids out

They paused briefly to grab everything off the coat racks and all the boots. He pushed past them to look for Garrison and halfway fell down the stairs, catching himself at the last moment with the handrail.

Garrison was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for him.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Garrison wasn't dead yet but he had no right to be alive in his current condition. He'd rolled in the snow to try to smother the fire and save himself, but it hadn't been in time. His skin was blistered and blackened, with most of his hair and clothing singed off. He looked like something out of Hollywood's next blockbuster horror movie.

Kermit grabbed the man under the arm and dragged him away from the burning cabin, Garrison howling and flailing about wildly. It took all his strength to accomplish the deed and he went to his knees, using the gun as a support to stay upright as he dropped the dying man into a drift. Evan, following him, had wisely made each of the gang members carry something valuable out of the house. He sent his oldest son to fetch some rope from the shed to tie his prisoners up. Garrison was babbling incoherently now, his body finally going into shock. Nora brought Kermit's parka to wrap around him and she gasped at the horrible sight. "Keep the kids back," he told her quietly and she went to help them finish dressing in their outdoor gear, taking them away from the burning cabin, back towards their dog yard.

The fire had made it to the exterior by now and was roaring up to the roof. Kermit could feel the heat from where he knelt. "I'm sorry," was all he could say to Evan. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

Evan shrugged. "Not your fault. His fault and he's paying for it," he said gesturing towards Garrison who lay panting, barely alive and wracked with shudders as the pain ate away at him. "Too bad we gotta pay for it too."

It was probably the worst thing he could do, but he didn't even try to resist the temptation. Kermit leaned over to whisper in Garrison's ear, "How's it feel, Garrison, burning in hell?"

Garrison opened his eyes to stare at him. He tried to reply but the words died in his scorched throat. He was very dead by the time the troopers arrived a short time later.

~~~***~~~

Kermit was cold again and his shoulder ached abominably. He was too tired to chastise Snow for coming out on the back of Thompson's snowmobile along with the dozen or so Troopers who'd showed up. She didn't say much either as she checked his shoulder. "It's not that bad," he lied.

Tommy Thompson had even less to say. He just looked at his brother in disgust and walked away. Davey hung his aching head and sniveled into his shoulder as another Trooper cuffed him and took him away to where the criminals were being loaded into a snowmobile trailer. "Give me a minute," Kermit asked Snow.

She nodded and he went to follow Tommy who was now staring at the blazing cabin. The Trooper looked over to him as he came to stand by his side. "Go ahead. I've got it coming," Thompson told him. "I'm the one who told him you were coming to take Garrison to Fairbanks. I thought he was just making conversation. The little bugger was pumping me for information."

Kermit stared at the fire for a moment. "I had a younger brother David. He was pretty good at getting into trouble too. But I didn't give up on him and he had turned his life around when he was murdered. Your brother is still young enough to change his life. He helped me when Garrison dumped me out here. I'll put that in my report. He's your family. Don't give up so easy."

Thompson sighed. "I suppose you're right. He's always resented me. I should have seen that he was getting in trouble. Should have helped him somehow."

"So help him now. Let him take his punishment and then give him a hand up, not a hand out. It can make a difference. I know."

Thompson looked at him. "I still hate your guts. She should have been mine. If you break her heart, you're going to have to answer to me."

Kermit smiled at the ground for a second. "It's always the lady who chooses. It's not up to us."

They stood and silently watched the fire for a time.

~~~***~~~

Evan and Nora had hitched up their team and had gone out to stay at the lodge, one of the Troopers escorting them and carrying two of the kids on his snowmobile. Kermit encouraged them to leave as soon as possible. "No reason the kids should have to watch their home burn to the ground," he told them and they agreed.

It was going to be a total loss. Not only were there no fire hydrants out in the wilderness, there was also no insurance. Evan had managed to save irreplaceable photos, papers, Nora's heirloom teapot and some of the kid's favorite toys but they'd be starting over from scratch.

Kermit had wanted to go back to the lodge too, but Snow had insisted he needed to be checked over in Fairbanks. They could have caught a ride with the air taxi that landed on the frozen river to take away Garrison's body, but he didn't think he could take the smell that even the body bag couldn't contain. So here he was on yet another wild ride on a snowmobile in the wilderness. At least this time he got to sit up and the driver certainly was a lot more friendly. She bundled him into her SUV as soon as they arrived, cranking up the heat all the way as he huddled under a blanket she had stowed in the back. In spite of Radar's attentions, he had dozed off by the time they arrived at the hospital where he heard Peter's voice. "Hey, partner, wake up and climb out of there."

Peter had left the HQ by the time a frantic Snow had arrived, but the Troopers caught up with him by leaving a message for him at his hotel and he'd gone to wait at the hospital when they called to say they were on their way.

Kermit sat up with a grunt, letting his friend help him out of the truck and towards a waiting wheelchair. "I can walk," he complained, balking at getting into the chair and then he noticed who was behind it. "Why, if it isn't Nurse Ratchet. We're going to have to stop meeting like this; the doctors are starting to talk."

"Humph," she snorted and pointed at the chair, "Just park your sorry butt there, Mister. It's regulations."

Kermit gave Snow one of his over-the-glasses looks and mouthed the word 'anal,' then proceeded to walk past the nurse and chair, into the emergency room. Peter followed closely to make sure he made it in okay while Snow went to park the truck.

It was early in the morning when Snow finally tucked Kermit into bed at her condo. They'd x-rayed, CAT-scanned and MIR'd his shoulder and decided that the damage didn't warrant opening him up again so they gave him more pain killers and told him to leave the criminals alone for a few weeks.

Snow and Peter went to sit in the kitchen to make tea and talk after they got him settled in. "I know you're due to fly out of here today, but do you think you could delay it another day?" she asked him.

"Sure, if you think I need to."

"I'd appreciate it if you'd stay here with Kermit today. I'm going to need to arrange for some things including getting us a plane ride back out to the lodge tomorrow. I don't want to stress Kermit with another long, cold ride. Plus, Evan and his family are going to need things and I'm going to do some major shopping for them regardless of his pride."

"Sure. I'd be glad to stay. That's a nice thing you're doing for your friends."

She shrugged. "The lodge makes a profit. Plus I have a very tidy trust fund from my grandparents. Mom and Dad preferred to make their own way in the world, so my grandparents invested what they would have given them for me. I believe 'Filthy Rich' is the proper terminology. But what Evan and Nora have done for me is beyond mere money. I'm really just trying to pay them back."

Peter nodded, toying with his teacup. "I can understand how it can be with friends. How they can become your family in a way."

Snow smiled a little. "Like your big brother in the next room?"

"Oh, yeah."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching out the kitchen window as big soft flakes began to drift down in slow motion. "Snow, I'm glad we got this opportunity to get together one more time. I wanted to ask you if you remember anything more about my parents. I know it was a long time ago, but anything you can recall would mean a great deal to me."

She shook her head, "It was a long time ago and right now, nothing else comes to mind, but I could meditate on it for you. I learned several techniques in the communes, and I think I could possibly pull up some buried memories if you're willing to try with me."

"Sure. When would be good?"

"Now," she said, getting up, "I need some work through a few things or I'll never be able to sleep anyway. Let me check on Sleeping Beauty and make sure Radar is shut up with him. You've never experienced anything till you've been startled out of deep meditation with a cold, wet wolf nose. There are some candles in the front room, if you'd like to light them."

She found him seated cross-legged on the carpet in front of the coffee table gazing at a bank of candles he'd lit. Sitting down next to him, she instructed him to face her, "I'll get myself cleared and then, when I'm ready, I'll take your hands. Try to make yourself as clear and open as you can."

He shifted position and together, they closed their eyes, each sinking into their inner selves.

As he did every time he went into meditation, he ran smack into his father, or rather, his father's essence; that sweet, yet distance presence that was always there for him. Depending on his mood, he generally embraced it or raged at it as needed. Somehow he knew his father understood and today, he embraced his father and told him how much he missed him.

By the time he had worked through everything, he felt clear and confident enough to mentally reach out to Snow to see if she was ready--and was nearly overcome by a wave of grief. She was in turmoil, having lost one of her dogs on the mad dash back to the Troopers HQ to fetch help. Bravely, she'd held her anguish from everyone, feeling it would only make an upsetting situation worse.

He sensed her loss and reached out to comfort her. She hesitated at first and then accepted his support, setting the sorrow aside for later grieving. It was strange to feel so connected to someone he had rather disliked and he almost laughed as she revealed the similar feelings she'd had for him.

He felt her hands reach for his and the bond between them grew. Memories flowed through them, some of them his that slipped accidentally into the stream. Then he saw his father, but not one of his memories. This Caine was younger, dressed similarly to his current mode of dress and definitely what would have been called a hippy at the time. And his mother, Laura was there too. God, she was beautiful! Even wracked with the labor pains, she still had a calm about her that was almost magical. They had come to Snow's mother for help. The baby was coming early and fast. They were so much in love and so happy about the baby; so ready for him to come into the world and complete their family. Peter realized he was seeing and feeling things from the viewpoint of a child. Young Snow. How she could pick up on their feelings so well, he didn't understand but she knew. He had been loved and wanted and so eagerly anticipated by both his parents. The scene changed. They were outside the tent structure, sitting on a blanket in a grassy field. Laura was holding the baby, breast-feeding him and singing a soft lullaby as she rocked him gently. Along side her sat his father, playing the flute for her. Snow was bringing her a glass of milk to drink. He could hear the music, smell the flowers that bloomed among the grasses, feel the warmth of the sun that flooded over them. Laura looked up from her baby to take the glass and thank Snow and the moment froze. Like a picture captured on film, it was burned into his memory the same as it had been held in Snow's mind.

Then it was over. The bond between them melted away and Peter opened his eyes. Snow was tiredly rubbing her lower back as she arched to stretch it. "I'm sorry. That was it."

"It was wonderful. I can never thank you enough."

She rose gracefully to stretch her hands over her head. "You're welcome. And thank you," she added, acknowledging his support. "I think I can sleep now. Every thing you should need will be in the guest room," she told him, indicating the doorway. "Goodnight."

She went quietly so as not to wake her companions and he sat silently for a moment longer, savoring the memories. Then he gestured at the candles, extinguishing them one at time.

One thing was for certain, he thought as he got up to go to bed, Peter Caine, former rake, rogue, and sometimes womanizer would never, never look at a woman's breasts in quite the same way again.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Peter made a mental note to call Marilyn and tell her exactly what kind of a pain her darling big brother could be when he was recuperating and how very lucky she was that she didn't have to put up with it. He fussed, grumbled, complained about everything and everyone up to and including Pat Sajak. Local television was abysmal, the laptop was out at the lodge and why wasn't Snow there to make his lunch for him? "No offense pal, but if you wanted to be a real threat on the streets, you should have taken up cooking," Kermit groused, pushing his meal away and reaching for the telephone. "I'm ordering pizza," he insisted.

"Oh, sure, now that's nutritional. Snow told me this is what you were supposed to have to eat, okay? Now put that phone down or I'll be 'forced to break your fingers,' to quote a phrase we both know and love," an exasperated Peter ordered.

Luckily for Peter, Snow arrived to intervene, sending him out to unload the truck while she scrambled up some eggs for the invalid. Afterwards, they all sat in the front room, organizing the purchases, tearing off price tags and opening wrappings. Besides a small store-load of clothing, she'd bought each member of the family a backpack and filled it with goodies, necessities and, for the kids, toys and candy. Kermit's one-handed help lasted until he found the pocket computer games she'd gotten for the kids then he was off in a world of magic coins, tiny monsters and bad plumbing. "I wish I'd had one of those a couple of hours ago," commented Peter quietly, nodding to the busy detective.

"If I'd had any idea, I would have had one flown in a week ago," Snow remarked. "That's a lot safer than letting him have the laptop and a modem."

Then they repacked everything into boxes for easy loading onto the bush plane she'd chartered for them. Peter's flight would be going out shortly after theirs, so they would be giving him a ride to the airport. She'd also arranged for the truck to be returned and the team would be home by the time they got there. Tommy promised he'd bring them out when he came out to take Evan and Nora's statements that day. After a full morning of dealing with shopping and with the stresses of the crowded city niggling at her mind, Snow was only too eager to be going home.

~~~***~~~

Later, they stood in the lee of the truck, looking for some protection from the biting wind as Snow and the pilot loaded the last of the boxes, checking the balance and securing them.

"Sure you don't want to come back out to the lodge with us?" Kermit asked.

Peter hunched his shoulders, trying to keep warm. "I want to, but it's time for me to go home. You're safe, well-cared for and recovering, Garrison is dead and I will be when Simms gets the bill for her Gold Card."

"Tell her I'm picking up the tab for this trip. And Marilyn, too, for that matter."

"You know neither of them will let you."

He cocked his head, "I'll insist and you know how persuasive I can be."

Peter laughed a little, "Oh, yeah," then he continued, "So what about Snow?"

Kermit shrugged, "I could end up earning lots of frequent flyer miles if I can't persuade her to fly south for the rest of the winter."

"Well, not that you need to hear it from me, but she's a nice person. And I think she cares a lot more about you than she admits. She'd have to in order to be able to put up with you."

"She's not exactly seeing me at my best, that's for sure," he commented, watching her as she worked.

"Your best? Exactly when would that be?" Peter joked, then put up his hands, surrendering to the glare.

"Saturdays, at two. I always help old ladies across the street then, Whether they want it or not."

~~~***~~~

It was like Christmas all over again when Snow and Kermit arrived at the lodge with all her purchases. The older children came up to the airstrip to help unload so the pilot could take off again before losing the waning afternoon light.

"Don't make me feel guilty for doing this," she ordered Evan. "I know you like to do it your way, but the kids need clothes. Just take it and says thanks, okay?"

"Fine. Thank you. But I'm paying you back eventually," he countered.

"Well, you can start by helping me convince Kermit he needs a nap," she sighed and turned to look for him in the chaos of the living room where the children were still opening boxes. She finally spotted him over by the front window alcove where he sat quietly talking with Sierra. As if she knew she was needed, Radar had put her large head in Sierra's lap for a change.

"On second thought, maybe he can just go to bed early," she remarked looking back to her friends. "How is Sierra taking this?"

Evan shrugged and Nora said cautiously, "I think she's okay with it so far. It may not have really hit her yet. We've explained to her that we know it wasn't her fault and we are putting the blame on that man. But a little reinforcement won't hurt."

Snow nodded, watching the tender scene, "For all his bad-boy attitude and toughness, he got a soft heart. If anyone can get through to her, he can."

"Lord knows he's gotten through to you," Evan noted with a knowing look.

"Oh, for heavens sake," Snow sputtered and got up from the kitchen table where they'd been sitting. "I think I need to check on the team."

Slipping into her parka, she went out the back door to her dog yard, needing the peace and quiet of the wilderness outside her door, but knowing in her heart it wouldn't be enough.

~~~***~~~

"So what else did your parents tell you?" Kermit prompted the girl.

She shrugged. "Some stuff about how guys are with girls," she answered looking down at Radar as she stroked the coarse fur of the animal's pelt.

"I bet that was embarrassing," he commented casually.

She nodded. "It's not like I don't know about that stuff. Heck, I've seen moose doing it. Can't be much different."

Kermit chuckled, "Well, I haven't seen moose 'doing it' but I think animals just follow instincts. People generally care about each other when they do that."

He grew more serious as he continued, "What Garrison was doing to you, didn't have anything to do with sex, Sierra. That was being mean to scare you. But I think you figured that out already, haven't you?"

"Yeah. I didn't know people could be so wicked. He's the scariest man I ever met."

"He scared me, too. But he's dead and he's not ever coming back. And you're surrounded with a lot of good people like your parents and your Aunt Snow. And good dogs like this drooling idiot over here," he reassured her, reaching over to pat Radar.

"I bet if Radar had been there, she'd have bit him," Sierra praised, hugging the animal who promptly slurped her cheek.

"And probably spit him right out 'cause he'd have tasted nasty, right Radar? We would have had to let you use the mouthwash, wouldn't we?" he joked, making the girl laugh, hoping he'd done enough so that she'd never wake in the night with dreams that tormented or left her with memories that haunted during the day.

~~~***~~~

Snow was standing in the dog yard by Hawkeye's empty house when Kermit came out to find her. "What happened?" he asked, noticing the dog's absence.

She turned to him, tears frozen on her cheeks. "Some racing dogs have congenital heart defects. I don't really race them but they come from good stock out of a champion racing team. I didn't know Hawkeye had it. Sometimes, you can't tell until it's too late. Dropped dead in the harness when we reached HQ. She ran her heart out for me, literally. She was a noisy little bitch, but she was a good steady puller, too. Damn," she swore, wiping at her nose.

"I'm sorry, Snow. I had no idea. Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged and wiped at the icy tears with the back of one hand. "You had enough to deal with. I didn't need to be dumping my problems on you."

Kermit reached out to pull her close. "That's what friends are for. I told you I'm tough and I can take it. You don't need to deal with this alone."

She put her head down on his good shoulder and cried like a baby. He didn't say anything more, just held her and after a while she calmed down and pulled away to fumble for a Kleenex. "Thanks. I guess I needed to get that out," she said. "I know they're just dogs, but..."

"They're your family. You're the leader of the pack," he assured her.

She half-smiled, "Well, I'm not so sure anymore since Radar has adopted you as Alpha Male of the pack. You know, she's really going to miss you when you go."

"Let's not think about that for a while, okay?"

He reached out to hug her again, turning her back to walk towards the house, arm around her shoulders, "Nora was in the kitchen threatening to let Sierra cook tonight. I think we need to run an intervention. After all, the kid nearly poisoned Garrison with her last meal..."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

It was late that night when Snow nudged Kermit awake. "Come, on sleepyhead. Get up, but be quiet. I don't want to wake anyone else. You have to see this. No, don't even think about putting those glasses on. You don't need them."

She dragged him quietly out to the entryway, and stuffing him into his parka, took him outside. With Radar tagging along, they trudged through deep snow to the edge of the bluff in front of the lodge, overlooking the frozen river. "There," she gestured up with her hand.

The night was crackling cold, a deep freeze that stung the nose and caused his eyes to burn. He was grateful for the warmth of the wolf that leaned against his leg. It was blackest night with no moon to relieve the shadowed earth. Overhead the Milky Way was strung out like Christmas lights, visible as nowhere else with no city lights to dim its magnificence. And silently dancing in the sky like witch light was the Aurora Borealis, colored softly green with streaks of red. It swirled and flickered, now stretching from horizon to horizon, now compacting like implosion. They watched it quietly for minutes, a personal light show gifted by Mother Nature.

Kermit looked down at Snow snuggled up next to him for warmth and she smiled up at him, starlight reflected in her eyes. "How do you like Alaskan TV?" she joked.

He saw the moment and took it, leaning down to kiss her gently. She was surprised, he could tell, but she didn't stop him and after a few seconds, relaxed into the kiss, giving as much as she was receiving.

They were both breathing hard by the time he stopped. "We shouldn't have done that," Snow said quietly.

"Why not?"

"I'm supposed to be tending to you, not taking advantage of you."

That made him smile. "You're such an innocent. I'm the one who started this. If anyone is taking advantage, it's me."

"Come on, it's too cold out here for conversation. Especially this conversation."

She took him back into the house and helped him out of his parka and boots. "Let's get you tucked back in to bed," she whispered, opening the inner door to the front room.

He followed her to the bedroom and quietly closed the door behind them. She was straightening up the covers and turned them back for him. "Aren't you coming to bed?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not right now."

"What's the matter? Chicken?"

She frowned at him. "Kermit....."

He didn't let her finish, reaching out to kiss her again. She let him for a moment and then pulled slowly back. "I can't do this, Kermit. It's my job to take care of you."

"Fine," he told her, tugging her closer, brushing his lips against hers ever so lightly, "Then you're fired."

"Listen to me. There are other considerations."

"Like?" he asked, rubbing his cheek against hers.

"Birth control. I haven't quite hit menopause yet," she told him, looking for an excuse to put him off.

He nibbled her ear. "Took care of that years ago. Vasectomy. I do tend to learn from my mistakes."

"Okay. How about STD's?" she questioned, shivering a little from his hot breath on her suddenly very sensitive neck.

"Last I checked," he murmured into her ear as he kissed his way delicately up her neck, "You actually have to have sex to get them and I hate to humiliate myself telling you how long it's been. Let's just say, first off that I'm a careful person. And secondly, I'd know by now if I needed treatment and I'm willing to trust you to tell me to stop if that's the reason you can't go any further."

He'd been surprisingly busy and dexterous with that left hand and the sensations were beyond anything she'd felt before and she couldn't stop the breathy moan that escaped when he kissed her again.

"Kermit," she finally begged him, pulling back "what do you want from me?"

"Everything, damn it," he told her, "everything."

And this time, when he began kissing her again, she didn't stop him.

~~~***~~~

Later, when they lay entwined, sunk down in the feather bedding, covers piled high on top of them, he told her, "You're too quiet. If it's me, I can do better when I've got full use of both my hands, you know. Don't let this example scare you off."

She smiled up at him, "You were fine. It was wonderful. I'm just not sure we should have done this."

"I told you you're fired."

"It's not that. I'm over that guilt. Well, mostly over it."

"Okay, then you're rehired. Same pay but with some extra duties. I'm going to want more bang for my buck," he grinned at her.

She had to laugh at the unexpected pun, but then she grew serious again. "Kermit, I don't want to get used to this. You have to go back to the city soon."

"Will you miss me?"

She punched him gently. "How can you even ask that?"

"Then can I ask if you'll come with me?"

She was too stunned to answer for a moment. "Are you serious? What exactly do you mean?"

He reached up to stroke her face. "It's pretty simple. Come with me. Live with me. Sleep in my bed. Cook for me. Share my life."

"That's not simple. That's a lot."

"Did you think I was kidding when I said I wanted everything?"

She hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I don't think I can live in the city. All the people, all those different feelings and personalities. It's too much."

"I think you can get used to it. Maybe you'd like to go back into EMT work or back to school. Or just sit around and watch soap operas. I don't care. I just want you there when I get home."

"And the lodge? My business?"

"That's easy. Evan needs a way to make a living that won't hurt his pride. Right now, he feels like he's taking charity from you. Offer him the job of managing the place. Nora can do the cooking. They can save up to rebuild their own place. Tell them you need them, need their help."

"Okay, that's the first truly sensible thing you've said so far," she agreed.

"Snow?"

"Yeah?"

"There's one more thing."

"What?"

"I won't play house. This has to be serious--no cut and run when it gets tough. A genuine commitment. Real."

"How real?"

"I think we should get married first."

There was a lot of dead silence. She finally spoke up, "That has to be the most interesting proposal I've ever gotten."

"What do you want? Pretty words? Promises I can't keep? A lot of good intentions? I bet you can get all that from Dudley-Do-Right Tommy if that's what you really want. I bet he can even quote you some Shakespeare sonnets."

"Well, some expression of feelings would be in order."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, the 'L' word. Snow, I'm too old and too cynical to believe much in that anymore. I believe in commitments, in keeping my word. And I respect you too much to lie to you. I don't know from love, but I do know want and I do know need and I want and I'll even admit I need you. I think you want and need me just as much."

"Okay, I can admit that too. I don't care to think about being here anymore without you. Let's say I accept this backhanded proposal and then we find I can't stand all those people around me in the city? What then?"

"Then we go to plan B."

"What's plan B."

He smiled broadly, head tilted and eyes gleaming with mischief, "Go to Chinatown. Ask for Caine. He will help you."

"Peter? What the hell can he do?"

"You'd be surprised."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

It didn't take as much persuasion as she thought it would to talk Evan and Nora into taking over the lodge management. Snow thought that perhaps Evan was too depressed about losing the cabin to argue when offered a hand up, but Kermit was convinced it was Nora's devotion to indoor plumbing that clinched the deal. They agreed that Snow would arrange for her lawyer in Fairbanks to draw up the proper papers and set up the banking arrangements.

Kermit came into the bedroom from playing computer games with the kids to find Snow contemplating her open closet. She looked to him saying, "I hate to sound like a cliché, but I don't have thing to wear. I have a feeling flannel shirts aren't exactly in style back there, are they?"

He shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I've never been accused of being stylish myself, so I'm probably not the right person for you to be asking. Just pack some basics and whatever you can't live without. I'll buy you a new wardrobe. That is if you don't mind spending blood money."

Snow half smiled, "Um, Kermit. Since you brought it up, we should probably discuss a few things. Like finances for starters."

"I'm comfortable. Cop pay isn't great, but it's not bad. However, mercenary pay was very good and I have a nice stash in a Swiss bank. A few stacks of gold Kruggerands, raw diamonds. That sort of thing. I've never lived extravagantly. I can buy you pretty much whatever you want."

She went to sit next to him on the bed, reaching out to take his hand. "Alaska is a community property state. You want to get married, I get half your gold and you get half of the lodge and half of my bank account."

He nodded. "I think I'm coming out ahead, but if you want a pre-nup that says the place is all yours, I don't mind."

"I don't like prenuptial agreements. It's all or nothing for me. Like you said, for real. We can't go into this preparing for failure."

"Okay. So what is it you aren't saying?"

"My grandparents left me a lot a money. A trust fund. A really big trust fund. If you insist on marriage, you'll have to accept going beyond comfortable to downright wealthy."

"Well, that's a chore. You really know how to scare a guy off."

"I mean it. None of this your money, my money stuff. It's ours. This is a partnership."

"Fine. That's do-able. As long as you recognize who's in charge of this partnership."

She dropped his hand, shot him a stubborn look and opened her mouth to argue. "This is not up for discussion." he cut in swiftly. "There will be times when I will tell you do something and I'll expect you to do it immediately. I won't ask you to do anything without a good reason but I may not have time to explain. You'll have to trust me on this."

"I trusted you to do what you needed at Evan and Nora's, didn't I? I didn't fuss, I didn't argue. I trusted you and obeyed you when it was important," she pointed out.

"Yes, but you still came back. I told you not to."

"You said not until it was secure. It was," she answered stubbornly, arms folded.

"It was mostly secure. You didn't need to see what was left of Garrison and you wouldn't have had to if you'd done what I told you. You also knew what was going on this time. I may tell you to do something you don't understand. I need you to trust me to make some decisions for the both of us."

"Like you did for your sister?"

"Yep. Take it or leave it. I can't compromise on this. I'll understand if you can't. The other women in my life couldn't."

She was quiet for a moment, staring down, unable to look at him. "I will if you'll promise me one thing."

"Depends," he hedged, "What?"

She reached out to take his hand again. "If it comes to a life or death situation, don't make me go on without you. We go together, wherever that may be."

He looked at her carefully. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yep."

"Okay. You have my word on that. Anything else we need to discuss?"

She nodded. "Oh, yeah. An aspect of your past we haven't covered here."

He was looking uncomfortable. "Like what?"

"I got the feeling from things you said that you've been married before. Any little surprises, like weekend Daddy stuff?"

"Oh, that past."

She waited expectantly. So he hit the highlights and made it as brief as possible, explaining to her about a failed first marriage, a posthumous Dear John letter and a son whose paternity was in question. "I've never tried to find out for sure, but he looks more like me than the other guy and the timing was right, so he's probably mine. He doesn't know it and I have no plans on changing any of that. Marriage number two was a drunken weekend mistake and she left me too when she sobered up and found out what I really did for a living. I kept my commitments--they didn't. Oh, and I have a daughter."

"Do you see her?"

"Nope. Never met her. Don't plan to. Don't keep in contact with her. Her mother was Kurdish. We played house for a while but she wouldn't marry me because I didn't have enough goats. Married someone else and I paid 5 gold pieces a year to support the girl until she got married a couple years back. We got 40 goats for her and I deeded my 20 back to her and her new husband. End of story."

"I see. So that's why..."

"Yeah, I shut the baby factory down. Look, Snow, do you want kids? I'm not sure we can negotiate on that."

Snow shook her head no. "If I'd ever wanted any, I'd have had them by now. I love playing auntie to Evan and Nora's brood but after watching the miracle of birth for so many years when I was growing up, I never wanted any of my own. Besides, I'm getting too old for that kind of thing. I just do dog children. By the way, Radar comes with the package, you know."

At the mention of her name, Radar lifted her head from where she was laying by the door, playing guard. Kermit grinned, "Wouldn't have it any other way. Okay, now that that's all settled, anything else?"

"Well, yes, come to think of it. As long as you're spilling your guts, what about those two recent relationships Peter mentioned to me?"

"Peter mentioned them? I may have to have some words with that boy."

"So?" she prodded.

He told her. "...and I never slept with either of them if that's what that face you're making is all about," he ended with.

"I wasn't making a face."

"You were. It was sort of green, like jealousy."

"That's just your sunglasses. And speaking of jealousy, did you want to ask me about any of my past.... or local experiences?"

He sighed, not wanting to ask but needing to know. "Tommy?"

"No. Kissed him a few times, but that was it. Want to know who got my virginity? He was famous. One of the benefits of living in a commune in the 60's," she teased. "I was a groupie."

She leaned forward to whisper in his ear when he didn't seem to object to hearing. "No kidding. Geeze, I used to like his music. I finally lost mine while I was in the CIA and now it's a state secret. Of course, I could tell you if you really want to know, but then I'd have to kill you afterwards."

"No thanks. You and the state can keep that one. Gee, it's too bad you're so experienced. I'd have liked to have gotten at least one of your cherries."

"Sorry, fortunes of war, so to speak; although rather literally, now that I think about it," he told her, head cocked as if he were mentally totaling up past experiences.

"Um. Have you ever..." she whispered into his ear, causing the eyebrows to lift beyond the edge of the sunglasses.

"Uh, no, I don't think so. You're saying you've done that?"

"Why do you think the Grateful Dead were so grateful?" she said, nibbling his ear as she pushed him gently back onto the bed.

"Even if it is physically possible, I'm not sure it's entirely legal. I might be required to arrest us.........."

Whatever more he had wanted to say was driven right from his mind in no time.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

It was not your usual wedding. For one thing, the bride agreed to say love, honor and obey; not something that happened very often these days. And one of the witnesses was a wolf and instead of rings, they were exchanging really strange Oriental-looking necklaces. Judge Rebock had known Snow for many years, having been an annual visitor to her lodge for spring birdwatching, so he was happy to grant her a waiver for the three day waiting period after buying the marriage license and married them right away in his office. He wasn't surprised when they chose the short version. "I can just sign the papers and you'll be married, if you want to skip the ceremony," he offered.

Snow looked to Kermit, and then shook her head, "I don't want a big fuss, but I do want to feel like we actually got married."

So he read the words and they said their vows and he gave them copies of the documents. They left quickly, saying they had a plane to catch. The judge sighed. Well this was still more fun that his usual daily jobs. And it was Alaska were weddings were often far from the norm. At least he hadn't been asked to climb a mountain this time.

~~~***~~~

They barely made it on board the airplane before takeoff. They'd reserved seats in first class to keep his arm from being jostled too much. She turned down his offer to join the mile high club, too worried about Radar who'd objected strenuously to the kennel she was forced to ride in, stowed below. It didn't help that the man in front of her was an anxious flyer and Snow began to pick up on his nervousness. Worse yet was the perky steward whose mood threw her off in another direction. She looked almost tearfully at Kermit, "I warned you this could happen."

He pushed the armrest between them up and held her close.

During the plane change in Seattle, he disappeared for a short time and when they were air-bound again, he gave her the ring he'd bought for her, sliding it on to her finger with a kiss. "Can't have you wandering around without a ring on your finger so guys will know you're taken."

"And you? What's to let the girls know you're taken?"

"The self-satisfied smirk on my face should do it, but if you insist, you could put this matching one on me."

~~~***~~~

Peter was meditating when he heard his friend calling his name. He got up and went into the entry room to find Kermit holding a quietly sobbing Snow. The subdued wolf sat by his side. Kermit looked over to him with a woeful, "Help." The vibrations being broadcast by Snow were almost visible to Peter as he came to take her hand, the better to assess what was going on. She was locked in a whirlpool of emotion--oddly, very little of it her own. "Kermit, how long has she been like this?"

"Almost all day. It started on the plane. We had a white-knuckle flyer sitting ahead of us for most of the trip and she was picking up on his feelings. And those of the steward, the co-pilot and damn near everyone else she's been exposed to in the past few hours."

"She's an empath. She's picking up other people's emotions and taking then on. Snow, Snow," he called to her, trying to capture her attention. "Look at me. Focus on me," he ordered, taking both her hands.

She stopped crying and took deep breaths, holding tightly on to his hands.

"Come with me," he instructed her, leading her to the meditation room. "Stay here," he asked Kermit. "Let me work with her for a little bit."

Kermit nodded and went to sit out on the balcony with Radar. Chinatown was spread out below him; the smells, the sounds and all the lights. It seemed strange to him after being in the silence of the wilderness for so long. How much worse was it for Snow who hadn't been exposed to this much human chaos in years?

"So, the Dark Warrior has returned. And not alone."

Radar jumped to her feet, growling. He turned to find Lo Si behind him. He hadn't heard a single step and apparently, neither had the wolf. The old man gestured with one hand, lighting a small brazier where he gently set a charming little tea pot.

"What do you know about it?" Kermit asked him, putting a hand on the animal to calm her.

"You have found the light to your darkness. You wear the White Griffin," he gestured to the necklace Kermit still wore. "I felt its power."

Kermit reached to touch the carved piece. "Married her too," he commented. "As you planned?"

Lo Si was busy crushing herbs into a cup. "No, not my plan. But as I saw it should be. It is well you did not resist your destiny."

"And what destiny would that be, old man?" Kermit asked, his voice holding just the tiniest bit of threat in it.

"The same as we all have. The choice between the darkness and the light. You have walked too long in the shadows. It would have overcome you soon. You will find it much easier to resist the darkness with the forces of light at your side."

Radar had been creeping forward to sniff at the man and the concoction he had stirred up. Lo Si leaned over to speak to her in Chinese and she came to sit in front of him, licking his hand when it was offered. "Why, Radar, I didn't know you understood Chinese," Kermit commented wryly.

"She does not. But I speak wolf," Lo Si corrected him.

The old man put boiling water over the herbs which let out a pungent odor, not unpleasant, but odd. "This tea will deaden her gift and allow her to sleep. She must learn to control it on her own, but this will let her rest when she can no longer hold on. She should not have waited so long. It is good you finally found her."

"I was under the impression that she found me," he replied.

The Ancient looked at him archly, "Yes."

He handed Kermit the cup and gestured to the meditation room. "Take it to her. I will take the wolf out for a short walk." Kermit brought it to the doorway, finding the two sitting cross-legged and facing one another as they held hands, deep in meditation. "Peter," he called quietly. "I heard. Bring it here."

They dropped their hands and opened their eyes as Kermit brought the cup to Snow, kneeling down next to her. "Drink it all," Peter told her.

To Kermit he explained, "She's too exhausted. This will let her sleep now and when she's rested, in the morning, we can try again."

"I understand what you want me to do. I just can't do it," Snow complained.

"You're too tired. You can do it when you're rested. You've been doing it all along; it's just that there were only with a few people around you at a time where you were living so it was easier. Here, you'll just have to learn how to shield yourself from a greater number at one time."

"Then why don't I have to shield from you or Kermit?"

Peter frowned. "I wasn't aware that you didn't have to, but I can take a wild guess. For me, I'd say that it's my training, although a year ago I'd probably have sent you screaming. For Kermit, it could be something he trained himself to do. I'd say a survival tactic. Or perhaps just something he was born with, a natural protection from empaths."

Kermit asked, "Exactly what is an empath?"

"A person with a unique gift--but it's a two-edged sword. She can feel other people's feelings but when it's untrained and out of control, like it is now, she takes the feelings into herself instead of just reading them. She has to learn to keep herself separate. And she will, in time. Finished?"

He took the empty cup from her and setting it aside, he encouraged her to get up. She swayed a little as she rose and it was Kermit who reached to steady her as she'd done so often for him. "I think you should both stay here tonight just in case. My guest room is a little Spartan but it's comfortable."

He led them to a room furnished with a futon and left Kermit to tuck her in.

~~~***~~~

"At the risk of having my head bitten off, why marriage?" Peter asked later as they stood in the doorway, watching her sleep.

Radar occupied a guard position at the foot of the bed.

"I felt that any less commitment and she'd run when it got tough. And, this way I can protect her in ways I couldn't if she were just a roommate," he admitted, turning away. "You know how the legal system works."

Peter closed the door quietly and they went to sit back in the warmth of the solarium he'd finally finished building. Kermit leaned back in the soft chair that Peter had brought from his apartment, running his fingers through his hair as he continued. "Besides, I like being married. It's got a lot to recommend it. You should try it sometime. You're not getting any younger, you know."

"Um. Maybe someday soon. I just haven't found the right person yet."

"Maybe you have and just don't know it."

Peter shrugged. "Care to tell me how 'half a marriage' works? Perhaps I could try that to start."

"We played house. But it was a Third-World country and there were....ah, complications. And consequences. It wasn't entirely legal and that I don't recommend. You've played house before. Try commitment. It puts a whole new spin on things."

"You know, you're a lot scarier when you're acting normal," Peter told him with a smile, as he changed the subject, "Not how you planned to spend your wedding night, eh?"

"No, not quite. But I've had worse," he sighed. "It's probably better that we're here anyway. When I took her to my place, she hated it. Said it was too high up and that whoever decorated it was obviously infected with a serious case of Yuppie Flu. I tried to explain I bought it all furnished, but she just kept crying."

Peter snorted lightly, "Yeah, I wondered about that piano. Looks like you need to talk to TJ about some real estate."

"Good idea. I'll corner him tomorrow and get him working on it. After my doctor's appointment. Sabourin has me set up with an orthopedic specialist first thing in the morning. And after I talk to the Captain, of course."

"This is probably going to come as a shock to her, Kermit. Try to be gentle."

"Oh, yeah."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

This was no way to start the day, thought Karen Simms as she tried to keep her voice even and calm. The boy stood by the door of the department, his hostage in a strangle hold with a knife at her chest. The sobbing girl had been brought in for shoplifting and her father was a wealthy, and troublesome, local politician. There was going to be hell to pay for this incident and Simms had to make sure it had a good conclusion. "Son, we can't let you walk out of here with this girl. You're going to have to let her go and then we can talk about this," she tried to persuade him.

"No way!" the boy screamed, his eyes wide and pupils dilated from the drugs that coursed through his system. "I'm walking out of here with her and you ain't gonna stop me."

He backed up one more step and then stopped as he felt something at his knee. He looked down to see a very large white dog snarling up at him. It almost filled the width of the door with its bulk and the low growl that rumbled through it stuck terror in his drug-crazed brain. "Call it off!" he screamed. "I'll cut her if you don't call it off!"

"I can't," Karen said, surprised, "It's not ours."

Just then Kermit strolled into the room, brushing casually past the growling animal who paid him no heed. He was dressed in his familiar black suit and green glasses, but it was set off with a pale blue sling for his right arm. The beard he'd been sporting when he left was gone and his hair trimmed neatly back. "I see it's business as usual around here," he commented as he set his briefcase up on the counter one-handed, nodding to Sergeant Broderick. "Can't I leave this place for a few weeks without it turning to total chaos?"

He turned to the boy who looked at him wide eyed with amazement. "Is that your dog?" the kid asked.

Kermit shook his head. "It's not a dog. It's a wolf and if you move that knife so much as an inch in the wrong direction, she's going to tear your arm off and eat it, bloody and raw. But that's no where near as bad as what I'm going to do if you don't hand it over right now."

He held out his hand and the boy hesitated only slightly, glancing down at the wolf again, before he set the knife carefully into Kermit's hand, releasing the girl at the same time. Two uniforms stepped forward quickly to take the girl and cuff him. Kermit tossed the knife on the counter to the Sergeant and picked up his briefcase again. Simms remembered to start breathing again. "Welcome back, Kermit," she told him, still working on keeping her voice calm and steady. "Your timing is impeccable."

"Nice party," he commented, as he walked past her towards his office. "But next time, something simple like maybe just a cake."

"Detective," she called after him, "my office when you can spare a minute."

He turned to her, nodding and answered, "I'll be right there. Come on, Radar." The wolf padded after him and followed him to his office door. "In," he commanded as he set his briefcase down on TJ's handy desk, popped it open and proceeded to pull out a sheaf of papers.

Radar went into the office, leaping up to settle in his chair. Mary Margaret and Chief Strenlich were first to get to him. "Where did you get that?" she asked.

"Souvenir from Alaska," Kermit answered, "Looks like I'm all yours, Chief, for the next two weeks. Part time from 10:30 to 3, light duty and no typing. Doctor's orders. Here's all my documentation. I'll be at physical therapy from 9 to 10 on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays too."

He sorted out a handful of papers to give to the chief. He set another handful aside and snapped the brief closed. Turning to set it in his office, he noticed Radar's comfortable position. "All right, get your doggie butt out of my chair, Radar. On the floor and stay there. This is my office and that's my seat."

Pulling the big gun from its hiding place in the arm sling, he set it on top of the briefcase. Then he picked up the papers he'd set aside and said, "I'll be in the Captain's office if you need me. Don't feed the wolf."

As the Captain's door closed behind him, Mary Margaret commented to the bullpen in general, "I'd kill for one of your bugs in that room, Blake." Then she looked around with a smug smile as she dropped the bomb. "He's wearing a wedding ring," she told them, delighting in the astonished looks.

~~~***~~~

She decided to play it cool. She had, after all, called things off between them and she wasn't sure if he was still angry with her. So she sat behind her desk and organized papers trying to look busy when he came in.

But when he did come in, she couldn't stand not touching him at least to make sure he was okay, so she stood and reached out to him as she'd done so many times before, but this time he took a step back. She dropped her hand and sat down on the edge of her desk, heart racing. She knew he wasn't the type to forget and obviously he hadn't forgiven either. Peter had hinted that Kermit might not be receptive to any personal approach from her. "He's moved on," was all he'd said but she'd so hoped that Peter might be wrong.

Kermit went straight to business. "Chief has all my papers from the doctors. I'll be on part time for the next two weeks."

"Tell me you're okay before we start debriefing," she asked him.

"I'm fine. I'm healing. I'll be 100% in a few weeks."

She went back around to sit in her chair, ready to be his captain again. If that was the way he was going to play it, so could she.

"First, tell me what happened to all the personal paperwork you made out that has gone missing from my files."

"It got lost. I've redone it," he told her as he dropped the pile of papers he'd been carrying onto her desk. "There are some.....changes."

She looked sharply at him.

"Karen," he said to her quietly, "I got married yesterday."

She felt dizzy for a second, almost as if an earthquake had hit. But he was still standing there calmly, looking at her so it must have been just her. He'd called her by her first name, making it personal. She looked to where his hand rested on the edge of her desk. There was a black and gold ring on his finger. "Oh."

It sounded stupid. It was all she could get out with her throat closing up on her and her stomach turning upside down. "I believe in making commitments," he told her.

The man who never explained himself was giving her an explanation.

"I couldn't very well ask her to change her entire life without changing mine as well."

She blurted out the thought that had raced into her mind, with no time to edit mentally. "You've only known this woman for 3 weeks. It took you two years to ask me out to dinner."

He nodded. "I guess that should tell you something."

Pausing a minute, he continued, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that to come out that way. But I respect you too much not to be honest with you. Just let me assure you this had nothing to do with you and everything to do with her."

"I see," Simms commented, still too hurt to think straight. "I guess that should be a comfort to me."

"Karen..." he started but she held up her hand.

"Thank you, I'm so flattered you finally decided to share something truly personal with me except it's none of my business other than the basic knowledge that you are now married and that's all I care to know. Type up a report on what happened with Garrison and have it on my desk before you leave today. Dismissed."

She turned her chair around, no longer able to face him and studied the photograph of her son instead, feeling much like a child needing her teddy bear.

"Fine. I can talk to your back as well as your face," he continued calmly, "But I'm not leaving it like this. We had a pretty nice little relationship going for a while. You decided to end it. You ended it easily, unilaterally and dishonestly."

She knew he was provoking her to engage her again but it was worked and she whirled her chair around, standing in her indignation to snarl at him, "What makes you think it was so God-damned easy?"

He was still calm on the surface, but she saw the tension of anger in his jaw. "Because you did it. Had you valued the relationship, valued me, you would have made different choices. You didn't," he accused, "If you'd been honest with me, we might have worked something out or at least parted on better terms. You didn't consult me or think about what I wanted. Look, we both knew it wasn't a permanent relationship. We are far too much alike for it to have lasted for long. But you weren't honest with me. Instead, you tried to manipulate me, Karen. I can't forget that. If that makes me a bastard, well, that's me--the me I told you, warned you, that you don't want to know."

She sat down again, the passing of her rage leaving her weak in the knees. "You never let me know the real you," came her return accusation.

"No," he admitted, "You're right about that. I'm sorry I never could. For that, I take full responsibility."

"I was doing what I thought was best for both of us," she explained. "I knew you'd fight me on it so I used the excuse I thought would put you off easiest. You're right; I shouldn't have tried to manipulate you."

"It wasn't the wrong decision, Karen. Just the wrong way to go about it,"

"So where does that leave us?" she asked tiredly. "Less than friends?"

He shrugged. "The Captain of the 101st and one of her detectives who gives her the respect accorded to her position. We take the personal out until we can both forgive. Maybe someday we'll be friends again."

She nodded slowly. "All right. I can do that. But I want to say first that I'm truly sorry and secondly, I... I sincerely hope you've found what you need."

"Thank you. I'll have that report on your desk by 3 before I leave."

Then he left, closing the door quietly behind him, leaving her the privacy he knew she would need.

She wasn't going to fall apart over this, she told herself sternly. Maybe later, at home, when she had time, but not here and not now, she vowed.

~~~***~~~

After Kermit went back into his office, Mary Margaret announced loudly, "Cover me, I'm going in," and bravely opened his door without knocking. He was already in his seat, leaning over to one side, riffling one-handed through a file cabinet. Sitting down in the guest chair on the opposite side of his desk, she smiled at him and said, "So what's she like?"

He stopped adjusting the papers in the file to look at her over his glasses. "Who? Radar? She's pretty much your standard wolf."

Radar sat up at the mention of her name and nosed Mary Margaret's hand who obliged by petting the animal's head cautiously.

"No, the woman who's wearing the match to that ring."

He straightened upright and glared at her with the blank green lenses, "Mary Margaret, are you prying into my private life?"

"No," answered Jody from the door. She came in to sit on the edge of his desk and TJ, Blake, and Kelly followed her to crowd into the room. Strenlich and Chin lingered in the doorway. "We aren't prying. But we are concerned. We almost lost our big brother out there and since we've no longer have Peter here, it feels like our family is getting smaller. We couldn't stand the thought of losing you too. Something big has obviously happened in your life and we aren't just snooping or curious. We care."

He leaned back in his chair, pushed the glasses up with one finger in the middle and said, "Jody, Jody, Jody. After a speech like that, it's a good thing I'm a married man or I'd be forced to investigate that statement more closely."

She gave him a disgusted, "Kermit!"

He put up his one hand as if to fend her off. "Okay. We got married yesterday by a judge in Fairbanks. Her name is Snow Murdoch; now Griffin. She's the lodge owner who was taking care of me. What else do you need to know?"

"When do we get to meet her?" asked Mary Margaret eagerly.

"I'm not sure," he countered. "She's....not used to being around a lot of people. Maybe by next week. I'll bring her by Chandler's one night. Okay? Anyone else feel the need to know my shoe size or my mother's maiden name while we're at it?"

"Congratulations, Kermit," said the Chief, "marriage is a wonderful thing. I hope you'll both be very happy."

The rest of the group echoed his sentiments.

"Thanks, kids. Now all of you, get out. Don't forget to close the door after you. And Mary Margaret, don't even think about it."

"What?" she asked innocently as she stood. "Don't we get a party out of this?"

"Next week at Chandler's. You can buy the first round."

THE END


End file.
